BROKEN BOY
by Michmak
Summary: A case with no clues, and for once someone other than Sara gets emotionally involved
1. Default Chapter

Title: BROKEN BOY  
  
Author: Michmak  
  
Summary: A dead child. No clues. 'Nuff said.  
  
Disclaimer: The only characters I own are the ones I create for the purpose of this story. All the rest? Not mine.  
  
BROKEN BOY  
  
The child was beautiful. Stunning, really. His solid little body was clutching an obviously much-loved Blue's Clues blanket and a tattered blue elephant in his arms. His Snugli pajamas were bright yellow, with the legs carefully cuffed over to protect his feet. He looked like one of Raphael's Angels, peacefully sleeping while the world drifted by.  
  
From where she was standing, Sara could smell the sweet incense of baby- powder. The innocent scent was incongruous when juxtaposed with the flashing police lights, ribbons of yellow crime scene tape, and the harsh static squawk of walkie-talkies that surrounded her. She could not tear her eyes away from the child.  
  
Flash! Flash! Flash! The sudden bright light immediately to the left front of her shot a sudden strobe-like pain through her head. She blinked and looked at Nick, who was grimly taking photographs. His jaw was clenched ferociously, his cheek bones standing out in prominent relief against his taught skin.  
  
She turned to look for Grissom, and found him to her right, softly talking with Brass to the trucker who had found the small body. The big man was twisting a well-worn baseball hat in his beefy hands. He looked like he was trying very hard not to cry.  
  
She turned again to look at the small boy, and gingerly moved towards him, stepping softly, almost as if she was trying not to wake him. Crouching down on her haunches in front of him, she studied his face intently, noting the small dimple in his chin. His eyebrows were delicately drawn, his nose straight, his small lips full and well-shaped. His hair was a dark blond, all unruly curls and ringlets, trimmed neatly in a clear effort to tame it. That hair would have been the bane of his existence as he grew.he wouldn't have liked it, but when combined with his already-handsome looks, he would have had no problem getting the girls.  
  
Nick came and hunched down on the opposite side of the small body. If possible, the tense muscles around his jaw had turned impossibly white - even whiter than they had been when he was taking pictures. He studied the boys face as intently as Sara had, before looking at her. She didn't know if the deep anguish she saw in his eyes was merely a reflection to the anguish in her own, but she flinched from the raw pain she saw there.  
  
"No visible sign of trauma to his head or hands." His voice was a harsh whisper. "No outward bruising." He glanced at the sterile gloves on Sara's hands, and then on his own. "I wish I could take these damn things off." He muttered. "I don't want to touch him with these on. It seems too clinical. I'm afraid they'll scare him.." Sara looked at him as his voice trailed off into silence, followed by his deep sigh.  
  
"I know what you mean, Nick. He looks like he's going to wake up any minute." She gave him a small, tight smile of sympathy, before bracing herself. "Ready?" At Nick's nod of assent, she gently slide her hands under the child's left shoulder and buttock, leveraging him slightly, and gently turning him unto his side. She quickly scanned the ground underneath him, looking for anything that would provide a clue as to who this child was and what had happened to him. The only thing she saw was dirt. She slowly lowered the boy back down, into his original position.  
  
Nick reached out a tentative hand and softly pushed his latexed fingers through the child's hair, brushing the curly bangs off his forehead, into the shape it had held before Sara had shifted him. The gentle movement caught Sara totally by surprise, and she was once again assaulted by the sweet smell of baby powder. Again, Sara heard his deep sigh.  
  
Nick's hands moved down to the top snap of the boys pajamas, and silently he undid them, gently pushing the material to the sides. Sara shut her eyes at the sight of the small chest, gasping in shock. While there were no bruises or any other obvious signs of assault, across the middle of his chest, tattooed in blue ink, were the words: Broken Boy.  
  
She couldn't hide the tears in her eyes as she looked at Nick, and back to the tattoo.  
  
"What does this mean? Who would do this?" she whispered.  
  
"I don't know Sara. I just don't know." Nick's couldn't hide the shaking in his hands as he picked up the camera beside him, and began snapping more photos. Under his breath, Sara heard him mutter, "It's gonna be a damn long night," before he turned and called in a louder voice - "Hey Grissom! Come here. There's something you should see."  
  
Sara looked at the small body in front of her again. "Who are you?" she whispered to herself. "Who are you?" 


	2. Timmy

-II- TIMMY  
  
The startling blue of the boys chest tattoo against the pale white skin of his small chest looked even more obscene in the halogen glow of lights above the autopsy table.  
  
"Well, it's not a fresh tattoo." Dr. Robbins commented, more to himself than anyone else, as he gently removed the rest of the clothing from the little boy, putting the pajamas in a plastic evidence bag. "No dermal abrasion, scabbing, or bruising. Hmm." his fingers quickly and professionally felt along the narrow ribcage, down the arms, across the stomach and down the tiny legs. "No bumps. No obvious signs of scarring or abuse. He's very clean, obviously well-fed. Except for the fact that he's dead, he looks like a healthy little boy. Probably around 3 years old."  
  
"Any idea - just from this first quick check, what could have caused his death?" Warrick had been standing near the doorway, beside Grissom, watching Dr. Robbins work. As he spoke, he walked forward and grabbed the evidence bag with the recently-removed pajamas. The blanket and stuffed elephant found with the boy was already down in the lab.  
  
"Nope. He looks perfectly healthy. No trauma anywhere. No scratches, no scabs - nothing noticeable. Maybe, after we run a couple of tests, check his blood, toxology reports.uhm.x-rays? Who knows what we might find. If it wasn't for that tattoo and the fact he was found just off the highway heading into the desert, I'd say this child had just.fallen asleep."  
  
"Weird." Grissom had stepped forward as the coroner was speaking. Both Warrick and Robbins looked at him with surprise at the seeming callousness of that word, but Grissom ignored them. He was staring intently at the little boys face. "Robbins." Grissom had leaned in closer, his gaze focusing narrowly on the closed eyes of the child. "What's that?"  
  
Both Robbins and Warrick leaned in as Grissom had, staring at the boy's closed eyelids. Along the seam of both eyes, barely noticeable even under the bright lights of the overhead halogens, was a very thin line of clear hardened silicon. Robbins leaned in for a closer look, gently putting his hand up to the boys' eyes and trying to manipulate them open. They refused to budge.  
  
"Holy shit." Warricks' disgusted words filled the room. "I gotta go. I'm taking this -" and here he raised the evidence bag - "to the lab. Maybe we can find some foreign fibers, or hairs or something." He shook his head, looking at the boy again, his green eyes angry. "There are some sick people out there, little guy. Sorry you had to know one." And with that, he left the room.  
  
* * * *  
  
Nick and Sara were staring intently at a computer screen when Warrick walked into the lab with the pajamas. Handing the bag to Greg, who took it without his usual smart remarks, he strolled over to stand behind them. The computer was flashing up pictures of missing children, from most recent backwards. Another computer was busy analyzing the finger prints of the boy - it was a remote possibility, but maybe he had been printed for some child-safety program, or who knew what else. Nobody spoke.  
  
Finally, just to break the unbearable silence, Warrick asked, "Anything?" Sara just turned to look at him glumly and shake her head. Nick didn't respond at all. Over on the other side of the room, Greg piped up, "Nothing here - yet."  
  
"Yeah, well, I just learned something down in autopsy. Someone glued that kids' eyes shut."  
  
"Before or after he was dead?" Nick winced at Greg's question, and finally looked at the other three in the room.  
  
"Any other tattoos? Bruising we couldn't see at the scene? A hypothesis as to what happened?"  
  
Warrick shook his head. "No man. Nothing. Robbins is running the usual tests, but I don't know what he's going to find."  
  
"How can someone just - just do that? Tattoo him, glue his eyes shut, and dump him like that?" Sara's voice was sad and shaky. She reached a slim hand up and massaged the back of her neck, rotating her shoulders as she did so. "He's just a little boy."  
  
"A little dead boy." Nick's words exploded from his mouth, out of nowhere. He jerked the chair he was sitting in back, and stood. His whole body was tense, his movements jerky and angry. He looked at his watch, and turned and snarled at no one in particular. "Page me if you need me. I'm going for a walk."  
  
Grissom was just coming down the hallway when Nick stalked by him. Entering the lab just a few seconds later, he asked "Where was Nick going?"  
  
"He needed some air. This is really bothering him." Sara glanced sideways at Grissom, before returning her attention to the screen. Grissom raised his eyebrows at her.  
  
"And how are you holding up, Sara?"  
  
"Listen, Gris. Don't worry about me. Only one of us at a time is allowed to get emotionally attached to the victim, and this time it's Nick's turn. I've had my fair share lately." Her voice was grimly ironic.  
  
"But it's not like Nick to get so upset. I'd expect Catherine to react like that if she were here - after all, she's a mother. Why is Nick so."  
  
"Wait! Stop - I found him.I think." Sara had stopped tapping her keyboard, and the pictures that had been flying by had stopped on one. She quickly enlarged the photograph, and turned to Warrick and Grissom. "Well guys, what do you think?"  
  
Grissom and Warrick looked at the picture.  
  
"That's our boy." Warrick said.  
  
Gris nodded in agreement. "Hi, Timmy." 


	3. LITTLE BOY BLUE

III- LITTLE BOY BLUE  
  
Nick was sitting on Grissom's Tahoe, out in the parking lot. He had been sitting there for about 30 minutes, his back against the windshield, staring at the night sky. He closed his eyes tightly, and heard Warrick's voice repeating in his head: "Someone glued that kids' eyes shut.glued his eyes shut.eyes shut."  
  
He ran his hand roughly over his face, and looked up at the stars. "Poor kid."  
  
"Hey, Nicky." Sara's soft voice came out of nowhere. "Mind if I join you?"  
  
Nick silently slid across the top of the Tahoe, and indicated with a shrug the he had just vacated. He felt the vehicle shift a little as Sara's slight weight pressed down on the bumper as she climbed up, and settled comfortably beside him.  
  
"We have a name now," she offered tentatively. "Timmy. Timmy Watson. Just turned three last week. He was reported missing by his foster mother almost three weeks ago. He was abducted from her home in Michigan. Brass is calling the local police chief there to see what information they can send us on their case - whether they have any leads or not, that kind of thing."  
  
"Any new information from Robbins? Anything found on his pj's, or his elephant and blanket that might help us find who did this to him?"  
  
Sara sighed. "Uhm, yeah. Robbins said that there were indications - internal scarring and such - uhm, he thinks Timmy has been sexually abused. Not recently, but definitely in the past." She rolled unto her side, and looked at Nick with concern, propping her head on her elbow.  
  
"Yeah. That figures." Nick's sad voice spoke volumes. He rubbed his hand across his face again, and twisted his head to look at her. "Don't worry. I'll be alright."  
  
"I know you will be, Nicky. You're strong. But if you want to talk.."  
  
"I know where you to find you," he reached out, and gently brushed her hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear. "You're a good friend Sara."  
  
"You are too, Nicky." They smiled at each other in the dark, before Sara sat up and pushed herself off the Tahoe. "We should go back in, Nicky. See what Brass has managed to find out from Michigan. Besides, we're denting Grissom's Tahoe, lying on it like this."  
  
Nick slid to his feet beside her, and turned to look at the hood they had just recently vacated. A couple of small dents marred the polished service. Nick smiled. "Those dents will pop out on their own. I hope."  
  
****** Sara and Nick walked into the lounge together, and found the others waiting there for them.  
  
"Found him!" Sara smiled cheerfully. "Told him what I knew. Hey Griss! Did Brass get any new info for us?"  
  
"They're faxing him the case file as we speak. He said he'd come down here when he got it all. In the meantime, we got the toxology reports back. Timmy had anti-freeze in his system. Ingested. From his stomach contents, looks like it was mixed into his milk. Robbins found some half digested blue cornflakes, and his stomach lining and a large portion of his upper and lower intestines, as well as his throat and esophagus, were dyed blue. Robbins places the time of death at about 4:30 pm - about an hour before he was found. He says there was enough antifreeze in his system to do serious damage to his internal organs. He died pretty quickly."  
  
"Jesus." Nick's one word spoke volumes. Sara reached out, and gave his hand a quick squeeze. Nick didn't let it go.  
  
Grissom narrowed his eyes and looked at their clasped hands, before continuing. "Greg ran a thorough analysis on the clothing, and the other personal effects found with the child. The stuffed elephant can only be linked to the boy. The blanket has a few nylon fibers on it off unknown origin - probably carpeting, but we're not sure yet. The pajamas were clean."  
  
"Why would anyone in Vegas have anti-freeze?" Greg asked.  
  
"'Cuz they're not from Vegas. Timmy was abducted in Michigan. It's January there - cold, probably lots of snow. Hence the antifreeze." Sara broke it down for Greg before Gris could respond.  
  
"Right. Michigan. And based on that, it's probably a safe bet to assume that Timothy and his abductor drove here. I mean, if they came by public transit, why would they bring antifreeze with them?" Nick was speaking quietly, almost to himself, but Gris saw where he was heading.  
  
"As soon as Brass arrives, we'll see if we can get our guys on the lookout for vehicles with Michigan plates. Good thinking, Nick."  
  
"Yeah. Good thinking. And we do have a suspect - the boys' mother." Brass walked through the doorway into the office lounge, and laid several fax pages on the table. "The chief up in Michigan told me the mother was trying to get her son back from Children's Services, and wasn't having much luck. Her name is Nancy Elizabeth Watson. Nineteen years old, 110 lbs., 5' 5 ½' - brown eyes, blonde hair. I have a photocopy of her driver's license here. We can run it through the DMV and see if we can find out what type of car she may be driving." 


	4. ISSUES

IIII- ISSUES  
  
Sara was staring at Nick intently, while trying to pretend she wasn't. She hadn't missed the pointed looks Gris had been shooting her way all night, and they were making her uncomfortable. Sara had never seen Nick so worked up about a case, not even the time when his friend, Kristy, had been murdered. Of course, she knew why this case was getting to him - Nick had a good-guy streak a mile wide. In her mind's eye, she sometimes envisioned him with a big white cowboy hat, riding in to rescue the weak, the downtrodden, the abused. Nick wanted to save the world. Cases with children - especially abused children, always got to him.  
  
The case file Brass had been sent had provided a little more background information. Timmy had been taken from his mother within weeks of his birth. Her aunt and uncle had asked for custody of the child, and Timmy had been living with them since. They were listed as the official guardians of the minor child. According to the files, Timmy had been taken away from his mother because she wasn't a stable person. The last few years prior to his birth, she had suffered several breakdowns. For a while, she had even lived on the street. On his birth certificate, Timmy's father was listed as unknown.  
  
It was assumed that Nancy had finally decided to cut and run with Timmy because her aunt and uncle, with the support of Children's Services, had been trying to have her parental rights revoked. They had wanted to adopt Timmy themselves. Nancy Watson had been vehemently opposed to this idea, but the case had not been going her way. A final ruling had been expected the day after Timmy had disappeared. Not surprisingly, the ruling - delivered in abstentia of Timmy and his mother, had ruled in favour of the aunt and uncle.  
  
While Brass had been revealing this information, Sara had watched Nick stoically take it all in. His jaw was all tensed up again like it had been at the crime scene when they had been examining the boy and taking pictures. He had hunched his shoulders inwards, and assumed a defensive position. His left arm rested across his chest, and his right hand drummed obsessively on the table top.  
  
"Any indication in those files as to who sexually abused him?" Nick's voice was blunt, and sudden.  
  
"Nope. Nothing indicating it was ever even reported." Brass shuffled the papers in his hands, waiting for Nick's response.  
  
"How much access did the mother have to Timmy before she abducted him?"  
  
"Not much - she was trying for more, but her aunt and uncle were blocking it. According to this, she'd seen him once in the last 3 months - supervised."  
  
"So it couldn't have been her, then. So, if it wasn't her, it was someone who had total access to him - perhaps the aunt or uncle."  
  
"That's a pretty big leap, Nick." Grissom interjected. "But past sexual abuse is not really an issue here. The murder is."  
  
"Past sexual abuse is ALWAYS an issue." Nick's voice raised, and he stood suddenly, facing Grissom. "Jesus - what is with you and your automaton act all the time? You may not think it's an issue, but I bet it was a damn big issue to that little boy. He was only three years old, for God's sake." Nick's voice trailed off, and he slumped back into his chair. "Sorry," he mumbled.  
  
Grissom said nothing for a few seconds, just studied Nick's dejected form sitting across from him. He sighed. Something was just not right here. "No, I'm sorry. You're right, Nick. It was an issue for this little boy. So, we actually have several crimes committed here: first one, obvious - murder. Second: sexual abuse. Third: kidnapping and abduction of a minor across state borders. We have to find the mother to see what we can get from her."  
  
"On it!" said Brass, standing and leaving the room. "I'll put out an APB with picture, see if anyone spots her. And I'll see what we can find out from the DMV. Maybe we'll catch a break."  
  
Gris looked at his watch. "Listen, there's only 10 minutes left to this shift. We're not going to get anything new between now and then, so go home. I expect you all to get some sleep - this will not be solved in a day, and I don't want the tension from tonight returning for the next shift. Leave now."  
  
Nick didn't look at anyone as he stood and stalked out of the room. Warwick, Sara and Grissom watched him leave, concern evident in their eyes.  
  
"I've never seen Nicky like that, man." Warwick stated.  
  
"I have. He was like that when we found the body. I'll see if I can talk to him, find out what's going on." Sara stood, said her goodbyes, and left Warwick and Grissom alone together.  
  
Warwick couldn't help but notice that Gris was still watching the door Nick, and then Sara, had so quickly exited. His concern was evident, but his face also had a trace of annoyance.  
  
"Listen, Gris - about what Nick said. Don't let it bother you so much. He's just upset. We all admire how you put your emotions aside on these cases. He didn't mean anything by it."  
  
"Yeah. Well, to be honest, that's not really bothering me. I understand the need to vent, and he was right. This little boy was a victim long before he was murdered." Grissom smiled sardonically at Warwick.  
  
"But, listen. You and Nick are good friends, right?" At Warwick's nod of assent, Gris continued. "He and Sara - are they friends, or is there more going on there?"  
  
"Friends. Nick may be attracted to her, but I don't think it's gone any further than that yet." He narrowed his eyes at Gris thoughtfully. "Why you asking? Are you against fellow employees dating?"  
  
"I have issues with it. That's all." Grissom's response was curt. He nodded his goodbye to Warwick, and muttered as he was leaving, "See you tonight."  
  
"Issues. I'll be damned." Warwick chuckled to himself as he left the lounge. 


	5. WHAT YOU ALREADY OWN

IV - WHAT YOU ALREADY OWN  
  
Sara raced out into the parking lot, hoping that she would catch Nick before he left. She was anxiously scanning the parking lot, when a voice right behind her made her jump.  
  
"Looking for me?"  
  
"Damnit, Nick! What are you doing, sneaking up on me like that?" Sara turned and swatted him in the arm.  
  
"Actually, I was waiting for you. Earlier, you said if I ever wanted to talk." Nick flushed a little. "Well, I'm not sure if I want to talk, but I really don't want to go back to my place either. If I offer to make you breakfast, can I come to yours? I really don't want to be alone right now."  
  
Sara sighed. Her concern for him was evident in her face. "Nicky, you don't need to bribe me with food - I was going to see if you wanted to come over anyway. If you don't want to talk about what's bothering you, that's fine. Talk to me about whatever you want. I won't push."  
  
"Okay, then." Nick smiled at her, an almost-genuine Nick grin. "Shall I follow you, or do you just want to give me directions and meet me there."  
  
"Actually, Nick, you're driving. I took a cab to work last night because my car's in the garage."  
  
Walking in companionable silence, they headed towards Nick's vehicle. Sara grinned at the big Texas Flag bumper sticker already adorning the back of the shiny new Ford. "You can take the man out of Texas, but you can't take the Texan out of the man," she muttered.  
  
"Amen to that!" Nick responded. "Okay - which way?"  
  
Sara quickly gave directions, and settled in for the ride. "Do you mind?" She asked Nick, as she leaned forward and pushed play on the CD player. Nick just grunted at her.  
  
"Country. Ugh. Should have guessed, Cowboy." She grinned in amusement. "Who is this?"  
  
"Actually, it's burnt. Mixture of songs - this one just finishing is Garth Brooks. This next one is pretty -one of Amy Grant's newest."  
  
The words of the song filled the cab, and Sara leaned back against the seat, silently listening.  
  
"I give you my heart, broken and bruised But still beating and wanting to trust you I know I'm unfaithful, I know I do wrong Do you protect what you already own  
  
I give you my body, naked and meek, Burning with passion, human and weak, I try to be faithful, and then I go wrong Can you protect what you already own Can you protect what you already own I know I'm unfaithful, I know I do wrong Do you protect what you already own.  
  
I give you my life, precious and rare Knowing wherever I've been you were there Sometimes I'm faithful, sometimes I'm strong Will you protect what you already own? I will be faithful, help me be strong, Cause you will protect what you already own You still protect what you already own"  
  
As the song finished, Nick leaned forward and turned off the player, glancing at Sara out of the corner of his eyes. Her eyes were shut, but she was smiling. They rode the rest of the way to Sara's apartment in silence.  
  
Author's Note: The song "What You Already Own" can be found on Amy Grant's newest CD, Legacy. For some reason, this chapter didn't end up where I thought it would, but hey - I'll go with the flow. This song just seemed appropriate. Don't worry - will get back the angst - in the next chapter! Keep feeding me reviews - they help. 


	6. SHELTER

VI - SHELTER  
  
Nick, living up to his initial offer of cooking breakfast, was puttering around Sara's kitchen. He had a tea-towel slung over one shoulder, and was gamely mixing milk, flour and eggs in a big bowel with a little metal wisk.  
  
Sara had gone to change into a pair of track pants and a loose t-shirt, and was no sitting at the kitchen table, directing Nick to whatever ingredients he asked for. She had an amused smile on her face. "The flowered tea- towel really completes that look well, Nicky."  
  
Nick snorted. "Your tea-towel. Frankly, I'm surprised you would have anything so girly in your place."  
  
Sara pretended to be offended. "What? You don't think I'm girly? You don't think I'm feminine?"  
  
Nick snorted again. "Girly? You? No. Capable, smart - feminine in a strong way? Yes."  
  
Sara laughed. "Thanks - I think." She watched as Nick poured a small amount of his mixture on a heated griddle, manipulating the pan until he had a perfect circle, thin as a sheet of paper. He expertly flipped the crepe, and slid it unto a plate that he stuck in the oven to keep warm.  
  
"Really Nick, you keep going like this, you'll make someone an excellent wife someday!" Sara teased, as she quickly set the table.  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Keep it up, and I'll eat all these delicious crepes myself." He had just finished the last one, and pulled the warming plate out of the oven and set it gently on the table. "Watch out - this is hot."  
  
"Yes Mom!" Sara teased again, and laughed when Nick rolled his eyes at her. Minutes later, after she had come up for air, she complimented him on his fine cooking.  
  
"I'm surprised you managed to taste them at all, you inhaled them so fast." Nick still had a couple of crepes on his plate. Sara watched him, fascinated, as he melted a small pat of butter on one, sprinkled sugar over it, and rolled it up, before cutting it into small pieces.  
  
"What's that taste like? Without the syrup?"  
  
"Uhm - good. Here, try some." He offered her the piece on his fork. "My mom always used to eat them this way."  
  
"Wow - that's delicious." Sara picked up her fork, and started stealing pieces from Nick's plate. "So, your Mom - she the one that taught you to cook?"  
  
"Well, that depends on what type of cooking your talking about." Nick leered at Sara suggestively, before grinning. "Seriously, yes. My mom said it was important for all us boys to know how to cook, how to wash clothes properly by separating them - how to put the toilet seat down."  
  
Sara laughed. "Ooh - I love your mother. My mother couldn't even boil water. Toast was something you made with a wine glass."  
  
"And yet, you survived! So, if she didn't cook, who did? I know it wasn't you - I remember the burnt offerings you tried to pass off as cookies at the last staff party."  
  
"Ouch, Nicky. Ouch." Sara grimaced, before brightening immediately. "But, hey, it's the thought that counts!"  
  
"Yeah - and I thought you were trying to kill us!" Sara snorted, and poured herself another cup of coffee, before topping off Nick's. "C'mon, let's go sit on the sofa."  
  
"If you really must know," Sara said, as Nick trailed her to the living room, "my babysitter did all the cooking."  
  
She glanced up at Nick slyly, expecting him to make some teasing remark about silver spoons or the like, and was surprised at how white he had gone.  
  
He looked at her, stricken. "Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water," he muttered humorlessly, "it comes back and bites you on the ass." Nick smiled at Sara, not with any real joy, and looked down at his hands. The knuckles were white.  
  
"Nick? Nicky? You don't have to go into any depth if you don't want to, but please tell me what's wrong."  
  
It was the concern in her voice that did him in. "I was raped by my babysitter." His voice was harsh. "I was nine." And then the tears came. Nick's body was wracked with sobs, his breathe heaving. Sara reached out and wrapped her arms around him, and he buried his face in her shoulder.  
  
"It's alright, it's alright." Her hands stroked his back soothingly, and she continued to murmur quietly until his tears subsided, pressing gentle kisses against the crown of his head. After a while, she heard Nick sigh, and the sound of it broke her heart.  
  
"Nicky, it's not your fault."  
  
"I know." His voice was muffled against her neck. "Deep down, I know. But it's so hard, sometimes. And then we get cases like Timmy - and all of a sudden, it's happening all over again." He shifted up and out of Sara's comforting embrace, hurriedly wiping the palms of his hands against his eyes, before looking at Sara. "God, I'm such a mess." "No. No, your not, Nick. You're one of the strongest men I know. And you're brave. You've put yourself in a position where you have to face your demons on a regular basis, and you do it. You do it to try to catch criminals and predators that prey on innocent victims; to keep them from hurting other people. I admire that."  
  
As she spoke, Sara shifted into a more comfortable position on the sofa, half reclining against the big throw pillows at the side. Lifting her left leg up, she threw it behind Nick, sliding it between the sofa and his back. "C'mon, big guy. Make yourself comfortable. Turn around - yes, that way." Nick twisted until his back was to her. "Good, now scooch back. There. Just like that."  
  
Sara started gently rubbing Nick's temples, the back of his head, his stiff neck and shoulders. After a few minutes, she could feel his tension palpably ease. He shifted a bit more, leaning back into her and resting his head on her chest. Absently, he adjusted her leg so that it curved around the front of his waist, her foot resting just between his knees. Neither of them spoke, but Sara sang softly to herself as she massaged him.  
  
Nick fell asleep, tear tracks still staining his cheeks, and a smile on his face as he realized she was singing the song they had listened to in the truck on the way over. 


	7. GUESS WHO'S COMING TO DINNER?

VII - GUESS WHO'S COMING TO DINNER  
  
An irritating beeping noise, muffled but there, eventually woke Nick up. In his sleep, he had shifted around, and was now lying on top of Sara, fully facing her. His head was pressed against her chest, and he could hear the even rhythm of her heartbeat beneath his ear. One arm hung off the edge of her sofa, the other stretched up along the back of it, his hand resting on the pillow behind her. He could feel her soft hair against his fingers, and gently - almost against his will, he rubbed his thumb against the soft skin of her cheek.  
  
Pushing himself up by bracing his dangling arm against the floor, he lifted his head and studied her curiously. She had obviously fallen asleep while taking care of him, because, under normal circumstances, Nick didn't think he would ever be waking up like this. He could feel the sleepy weight of her legs tangled with his own. Her arms were draped over his back, one hand dangerously close to the waistband of his jeans. His t-shirt had risen up as he slept, and Nick was intensely aware of Sara's warm hand firmly pressed against the skin just above the small of his back.  
  
Without warning, that same warm hand began gently rubbing him. Sara was waking up.  
  
"Nicky?" she murmured sleepily. "You awake?"  
  
"Yes. Are you?"  
  
Sara's eyes fluttered open, and she blinked into Nick's strong face, smiling gently. "Sleep well?" 'God, she's beautiful!' Nick thought to himself, before swallowing thickly. "Uh, yeah. Did you?"  
  
Her hand continued rubbing his lower back, her eyes still sleep-warmed and heavy-lidded. Her other hand reached up, and her fingers started sliding through the hair at the back of his head. "Yeah." she sighed. Nick lowered his head back to her chest, and reveled in the feeling of her hands in his hair and on his back. He shut his eyes, and let himself drift for a few silent moments. So far, this entire morning had the feeling of a slow- moving dream, and Nick didn't want to do anything that would break the spell.  
  
He had been in love with Sara for what seemed like forever. Although she had only joined them just less than two years prior, Nick could honestly not remember what it had been like without her. He enjoyed teasing her, seeing her flustered look when he flirted with her. He had tried to show her in little ways he was interested in pursuing a relationship with her, but she had never really treated him as anything more then a big brother.  
  
He knew he didn't have the best reputation around the lab - Warrick and Greg helped fan the fire by teasing him about this girl or that, and he people thought he was a lady-killer. In actuality, he wasn't. He was a true gentleman to the core - charming with the ladies, well-mannered and chivalrous. He knew if he really wanted to, he could have his pick of pretty woman, but none had really peeked his interest since Sara had come to Las Vegas.  
  
And now, Sara knew his secret. The realization that she did wasn't daunting, as he had often imagined it would be if he ever told her. Instead, he felt strangely liberated by the fact of her knowledge.  
  
He suddenly realized that Sara's hands had stopped moving, and her muscles had tensed. 'The gig is up,' he thought to himself. 'She must be really awake now.'  
  
Sighing softly, he slowly pushed himself off her, gently twisting out of her legs, and sliding to the floor. He looked at her sheepishly, and smiled when she quickly looked away, and just as quickly darted her eyes back to his. She was blushing.  
  
"You feeling better?"  
  
"Yeah. Thanks for letting me stay here today. I didn't mean to fall asleep on you - literally." He looked at his watch. "We've got about 1 ½ hours before shift starts. I wonder if they found Timmy's mom yet."  
  
"Don't even think about it right now. " Sara gingerly pushed herself up, stretching like a cat as she sat. Nick could here hear her back popping, and winced at the sound.  
  
"I'm sorry - I guess I was too heavy for you."  
  
Sara blushed again. "Uhm, no - really, don't worry about it. It was all good. My back always does that when I wake up." She glanced covertly at Nick to see if he was buying it, before continuing. "Listen, I think I have some frozen TV dinners I could heat up for us. Why don't you go have a shower, and I'll cook"  
  
"I got a better idea - why don't you have a shower first, and I'll cook. I can make some spaghetti - saw some diced tomatoes and paste in your cupboard this morning, and you have some peppers and onions in your fridge. It wouldn't take me long to whip up a nice sauce. Than, while everything's simmering, I'll shower."  
  
"Homemade spaghetti sauce?" Sara squeaked. "I won't say no to that!"  
  
*****  
  
Ten minutes later, as the scent of tomatoes and oregano wafted through the small kitchen, Nick went to take his shower. Sara had stepped into the kitchen moments before, her hair still wet, wearing a black t-shirt and her black jeans.  
  
"Okay - I found a new toothbrush in the bathroom, and if you don't mind shaving with Lady Gillette and using Freesia-scented shaving gel, you're all set. Except I don't think I have anything in your size.let's see - nope. Nothing in brawny." Sara judged him appraisingly, before grinning. "You could wear the tea-towel, if you want."  
  
"Hardy-hardy-har, Sara. Cute. I'll manage with what I got."  
  
He was still grinning from the exchange as he stepped out of the shower, and started shaving. Sara had turned on her stereo, and Nick could hear Bono's distinctive voice.  
  
~You're dangerous, cause your honest, you're dangerous, you don't know what you want, well you left my heart empty as a vacant lot, for any spirit to haunt .~  
  
Wrapping a big towel firmly around his waist, Nick stepped out into the hallway. "Sara? I just remembered I have a fresh change of clothes in the gym bag in the back of my truck. If I gave you my keys, would you go and grab it for me?"  
  
Sara popped around the corner at his voice. "Sure will - where are the keys." Her voice trailed off and she quickly glanced away from the sight of him in a towel. "Too much skin for me, Nicky." She joked, even as her skin turned a deep red. "I'm not used to having a man around here."  
  
Nick handed her the truck keys he had retrieved from the pocket of his jacket, purposely letting his thumb brush the inside of her wrist. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that."  
  
Nick stared intently at Sara, watching her reaction to his words. She looked up at him and smiled with more hesitation than he had ever seen from her before. Her eyes had a speculative gleam in them. "I refuse to flirt with you while you stand half-naked in my hall, dripping on my carpet. Besides, you promised me spaghetti. I'm going to get your clothes."  
  
~Who's gonna ride your wild horses? Whose gonna drown in your blue sea? Who's gonna taste your salt-water kisses? Whose gonna fall at the foot of thee?~  
  
Nick was whistling in the kitchen, stirring the sauce, when he heard Sara return. Turning to smile at her, he froze in his tracks when he met the piercing blue eyes of Grissom instead of Sara's brown. Nick reflexively clutched the towel around his waist, and felt a slow blush heat his body. 'Oh-oh,' he thought to himself, 'this cannot be good.'  
  
"Guess who's coming for dinner?" Sara chirped, as she followed Grissom into the kitchen and handed Nick his gym bag. She winked at Nick, before turning and smiling at Grissom. "See Gris, I told you he was here."  
  
"Yes, I see that." Grissom responded sarcastically.  
  
"Hi Gris." Nick muttered. "Thanks Sara - I guess I'll go get dressed."  
  
*****  
  
As Nick beat a hasty retreat from the kitchen, Grissom turned to Sara, eyebrows raised. "I trust you made him feel better." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and he regretted them immediately when Sara blanched before flushing an angry red.  
  
"Just what are you insinuating, Grissom?" she whispered heatedly.  
  
Grissom had the grace to look embarrassed. "Nothing, Sara. Forget I said that. You're private time is your private time, none of my business."  
  
"You've got that right." She stalked angrily to the cupboard and pulled out three plates. "I can't believe I invited you to dinner, after that remark." She slammed the plates on the table, chipping one with the sudden violent motion. "Damn - that's your plate. I hope you eat glass."  
  
"Sara-" Grissom stepped forward, and put his hands on her shoulders gently. "I said I was sorry. Sometimes, I say things without thinking."  
  
"You never say things without thinking!" Sara's rebuke was swift and vehement. "Every word you say is carefully thought out - so if that was calculated to hurt me and make me feel cheap, congratulations - it worked."  
  
Grissom could feel the beginnings of a migraine coming on, and inwardly groaned. He squeezed Sara's shoulders a little harder, his tone harder than it had been just moments before. "That wasn't my intent, and you know it! I was just shocked to see Nick here."  
  
"Bullshit. I told you this morning I was going to try to talk to him. You came by to see what I found out." Her voice was still furious. "For your information, I'm not telling you anything. If Nick decides he wants you to know something, he'll tell you himself. Now -" she looked pointedly at his hands, "let go of me so I can finish setting the table."  
  
Just then, Nick sauntered into the kitchen. His eyes narrowed as he took in the tense scene. Sara looked like she was chewing bullets, and Grissom had the pained expression he usually wore when he was getting a headache. When he spotted Nick, he quickly dropped his hands to his sides, and stepped out of Sara's way.  
  
"Everything all right in here?" Nick asked, not really expecting a response. "Yes? Okay, then. Let me dish up this sauce and strain the spaghetti. We've got 40 minutes before we have to go to work. What are you doing here, Grissom?"  
  
"I came to talk to Sara. I tried calling you earlier to see how you were doing, and when I got no reply at your house or from the page I sent, I thought I'd come here." Grissom walked over to Sara's cutlery drawer, removing the appropriate number of pieces, before walking to the table. Nick frowned at the familiarity with which Grissom moved around the kitchen, helping Sara set the table. He had obviously done this before. Nick was irritated to realize he was jealous.  
  
"My beeper? I don't remember hearing it.no, wait a minute. I know where it is." He placed the spaghetti and sauce on the table and stalked into the living room. Grissom followed and watched Nick as he moved towards the sofa, getting down on his knees and digging between the cushions until he found what he was looking for. Quickly scanning the message indicator, he muttered, "Sure enough. Here you are. Sorry about that Grissom, must have slid down there when we fell asleep."  
  
He furtively glanced at Grissom to see if the barb had hit its mark, and was pleased to see Grissom's lips tighten at his words.  
  
Before Grissom could reply, Sara's voice called rather testily from the kitchen, "If you guys want anything to eat, I suggest you get in here and sit down. I'm already on my second plate."  
  
Nick shot Grissom a look that clearly said *Back off!*  
  
"Coming Mom!" in as normal a voice as he could muster.  
  
"Shut-up Nicky!" Sara responded cheerfully. "I can't eat and laugh at the same time!"  
  
Grissom stood in the living room inspecting the sofa morosely, before following Nick into the kitchen to join Sara. 


	8. GRICK

VIII - GRICK  
  
Sara was pissed off. Livid, as a matter of fact. She didn't know what in the world was going on, but Grissom and Nick were getting on her nerves. There they sat, the three of them at her table, in her kitchen, eating her food, and nobody was talking. All efforts she had made to start a conversation had been spectacularly shot down by the mono-syllabic grunts of the two Neanderthals on either side.  
  
Gris kept looking from her to Nick; from Nick to her, and it was driving her crazy. Nick was glaring daggers at Grissom, and the tension that had been noticeably absent from his features when he had woken up was back with a vengeance.  
  
She frowned in annoyance. Nick didn't need any extra stress right now, but he definitely had a bug up his butt about Grissom. She would have laughed at her almost-pun - bugs, Grissom, Grissom, bugs - hahaha, but she was too angry. And Grissom - the most insanely private person she had ever met - was clearly trying to figure out just what was going on between her and Nick. For more years than she could count, she had wanted Grissom to show some kind of personal interest in her, and now that he was, she wanted it to stop.  
  
To be quite honest, Sara was confused. She had been half in love with Grissom since the very first lecture she had ever attended, but she had the sneaking suspicion he had always viewed her as Eliza Doolittle to his Henry Higgins. She admired his intellect, his sly wit, the way his mind could look at all aspects of even the most complicated crime scene and come up with viable working theories. Add to that the soft timbre of his voice, his beautiful blue eyes, and the little grooves bracketing his mouth when he smiled at her, and he was damn near perfect.  
  
For almost two years - since she had joined the Las Vegas CSI lab - she had actively tried to encourage Grissom to view her as more than an ex-student; more than 'just-a-good-friend'. The only sign from Grissom that he was not oblivious to her as a woman was when he had sent her a beautiful exotic orchid plant several months ago, and when he had told her she made him see beauty. The problem with Grissom was he didn't really seem to need anybody. Sara wasn't sure if he would ever really need her, at least not the way she wanted to be needed.  
  
This brought her to Nick. She glanced at him from under her lashes, noticing the scowl on his face as he shoveled forkfuls of spaghetti into his mouth, and sighed. Nick was probably one of the nicest people she had ever met. He had gone out of his way almost since day one to make her feel welcome. He was charming, he was handsome, and he had the rare ability to make the people around him feel good about them just by being in his presence. He seemed to sense whenever she was angry or upset, and would always go out of his way to make it better - whether it was through his outrageous flirting tactics, or just by providing a strong shoulder to lean on. But because Nick was like that with everyone, she had never once considered that *maybe* there might be something more there.  
  
And then, the morning's revelations. She had seen a side to Nick she had never seem before, and she was honored and humbled that he had chosen to share with her what was most definitely the greatest tragedy of his life. Holding Nick as he had cried in her arms, Sara had finally realized there was more to Nick than the charming flirt. With her new-found knowledge, she was starting to understand where his whole good-guy, Texas Ranger cowboy image came from, and she admired him for wanting to make a difference.  
  
She had been intensely aware of him - his masculinity, his scent, the feel of his hair and the muscles in his back, when she had woken up this morning. In that dream-like half-awareness between being fully awake and still asleep, she had enjoyed his weight on her; and the feel of his breath through the thin material of her cotton t-shirt whispering across the sensitive skin of her breast. Without even concentrating, she could still feel the soft skin over tight muscle at the small of his back - skin she had caressed less than two hours ago.  
  
God, she was confused. Grissom - Nick. Nick - Grissom. If she could only combine the two of them she would have the perfect man, and she would call him Grick. Her sudden giggle caused the two men to look at her sharply. Nick simply waggled his eyebrows at her, and gave her the first genuine smile she had seen from him since Grissom's arrival.  
  
Grissom looked at her thoughtfully. "What's so funny?"  
  
"Uhm, nothing - Just keeping myself amused since you two are so obviously not up to the job." Sara grinned, taking the censure out of her voice with her look. "I don't know what's going on to make you two so tense with each other, but you better figure it out before we get to work. I don't think Warwick will appreciate it any more than I do."  
  
She stood and reached into her jeans pocket. "I've still got your keys Nicky, so I'm taking your truck to work. You ride in with Grissom. I'm leaving now. Lock my apartment when you leave - my keys are on the table by the door. See ya."  
  
The two men stared after her in silence as she left. "Good thing my car insurance is all up to date," Nick muttered, loading his plate and then Sara's into the dishwasher. Grissom followed suit.  
  
Neither said anything as they left Sara's apartment, and climbed into Grissom's Tahoe. Grissom kept glancing sideways at Nick, but Nick was studiously looking out the window. It was raining.  
  
"Listen, Nick. I'm sorry for whatever I did to make you feel uncomfortable. I was just concerned about you, and I wanted to find out how you were doing."  
  
"By visiting Sara? Have you asked her to spy on me, like you had her spy on Warwick?" Nick's voice was accusing, and his question made Grissom flinch.  
  
"Well, that was certainly uncalled for. If you recall, I did try paging you. But you were so busy doing - whatever you were doing - you didn't bother to respond." Grissom was normally a very calm man, but he could feel his temper bubbling just below the surface. He felt like he was going to explode.  
  
"And there's the crux of it. You want to know what Sara and I were *doing* on our off hours. You dress it up by saying you were concerned about me, but in reality you're trying to determine if Sara and I are a couple. Nice try, though." Nick's words were cool, and he lifted his hand, studying his fingertips intently. "Learn anything interesting, Grissom?"  
  
"Damnit, Nick! Don't push it. Why wouldn't I be concerned about you? We've been working together for years now. You're one of my best CSI's, and this case with Timmy is pushing all your buttons. I've never seen you act this way before. I'm just trying to understand.."  
  
"Well, stop trying." Nick sighed, leaning forwards and resting his head on the front dash of the Tahoe. "Listen, I'm sorry Grissom. I know you're concerned, but it really isn't necessary. I'm feeling better since I talked to Sara, and I promise that I'm going to keep my emotions regarding this case in check. Anything else?"  
  
No response. Nick turned and looked at Grissom. Grissom continued driving. All of a sudden, Nick felt bad. He was being an idiot, and he was alienating a good friend.  
  
"Listen, Gris. Two years she's been here now. For two years, I've waited for you to make your move, declare you intentions - anything. I've been her friend, and that's been it. But I'm sick of waiting for you to get up the nerve to ask her out. You've had your chance, and now it's my turn. I'm in love with her."  
  
Nick's words were like arrows, cutting through the tension in the car. Grissom sighed, his anger deflating. "I'm in love with her too. But, it's hard. I'm her boss, she was my student. There's a huge age difference."  
  
"That's crap, and you know it Grissom. The heart wants what it wants. And I'm not trying to step on your toes, and I hope this won't affect our working relationship or our friendship, but my heart wants Sara. I'm sorry if yours does too, but I've been a gentleman about this. I've seen the way you look at each other, and I've stayed away because of our friendship. But two years is long enough. I can't do it anymore. I'm sick of always being Mr. Nice-Guy. For once, I'm putting my needs first. I need her in my life. And she needs someone too. I think that person could be me."  
  
"And what does Sara say?" Grissom's voice was soft, the expression on his face sad.  
  
"I don't know. I haven't asked her yet. But I'm going to. I'm taking the chance, even if she shoots me down. I don't want to be asking myself, years from now, 'What if.'" Nick shot Gris an apologetic glance as he said this. "I hope you won't try to stand in my way. I gave you two years. I hope you'll show me the same courtesy. And I hope, whatever the outcome, we'll still be friends."  
  
Grissom pulled into the parking lot at the police station, parking his Tahoe and turning to Nick. "All I want is for her to be happy. I'm not good with people; not like you are. If you can make her happy, then that's good. But I can't guarantee anything Nick. I hope you understand."  
  
The sudden pounding on the passenger side window caused them both to jump. Sara was standing there, in the pouring rain, jumping up and down. Nick opened the door and stepped out of the vehicle. Grissom heard her yelling - "They got her! Timmy's mother is here. Brass has been waiting for us. Come one, Nicky! We have to hurry!" She grabbed his hand and started pulling at his arm.  
  
"Coming Grissom?" Nick hollered into the vehicle, before slamming the door and running to the front entrance with Sara.  
  
Grissom merely sat there for a few brief moments, resting his head against the steering wheel. The rain trickled down the front window like the tears Grissom couldn't cry. 


	9. NANCY

IX - NANCY  
  
Nancy Elizabeth Watson was not what Nick had been expecting. Looking at her from behind the one way glass, he was taken aback by her fragility. Her hair was matted and dirty, and despite the fact she was in Las Vegas she was wearing a heavy wool sweater. Sitting at the big table, with only O'Reilly in there watching over her, she looked strangely lonely and vulnerable.  
  
"How old is she again?" he asked Sara, who was standing right beside him.  
  
"Nineteen. But she doesn't look at day older than 15, does she?" Grissom responded to Nick's question as he walked into the room. "How long has she been here?"  
  
"Just came in about a half hour before you guys arrived." Brass was leaning against the small table in the room, a look of disgust on his face. "Waltzed in here, pretty as you please, claiming she'd lost her baby and wondering if we could help find him."  
  
Grissom cocked an eyebrow at this new piece of information, before turning to look at the girl a little more closely. "Well, that's an interesting alibi. Has anyone talked to her yet?"  
  
Brass grinned. "Nope. I knew you would want to be here, especially when we discuss the anti-freeze and sexual abuse, so I've been waiting. Thanks for showing up."  
  
"Okay then. Let's get this show on the road. Sara, why don't you join us inside - the presence of another woman during the questioning might make her a little more loquacious. Nick, you stay here. Watch for any interesting reactions we might miss."  
  
As they stepped out into the hallway, Sara spotted Warwick coming towards them.  
  
"Questioned her yet?" Warwick asked, in lieu of a greeting.  
  
"Not yet. Just headed in there now." Sara smiled at him, before leaning forward and whispering softly, "Will you go in there with Nicky? I don't think he should be alone."  
  
Warwick looked surprised. "Sure thing, Sara. I was heading in there anyway, and I think Greg and Doctor Robbins are going to try to come watch as well. This one's got us all stumped."  
  
Warwick watched with a slightly bemused expression as Sara turned and walked into the room where Nancy was waiting, following Grissom and Brass. He quickly entered the next door, moving quickly to Nick's side.  
  
"Hey Nick, my man!" Warwick kept one eye on Brass and crew as the sat down opposite Nancy, and one eye on Nick's reflection. "Or should I say, 'Nicky'." He leaned closer and took an exaggerated sniff. "Boy, you sure smell pretty. What is that, lillies?" he teased.  
  
Nick smiled. "Nope. Freesia. Thanks for noticing."  
  
"So - do you have anything to tell me???" Warwick was fishing and he knew it. Nick merely cocked an eyebrow, and met Warwick's gaze in the reflection of the one-way mirror.  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"C'mon Nick. Don't bust my balls here. What happened between you and Sara? You left, she went chasing after you, and here you are 10 hours later smelling just like her."  
  
"Nothing happened. We talked." Nick squirmed uncomfortably, his movements not lost on Warwick.  
  
"And?"  
  
"And nothing. Honest. Nada - zip - zilch - zero. Nothing. Now shut-up, I want to hear this."  
  
"Nancy? Hi Nancy. My name is Gil Grissom. This is Sara Sidel and Jim Brass. We're here to help you, okay?"  
  
At Nancy's nod, Grissom continued. "We understand you lost your baby. What can you tell us about him?"  
  
"His name is Timmy. He's wearing bright yellow pajamas with fold-over feet, and has a Blue's Clues Blanket and a little stuffed elephant."  
  
"And where did you last see Timmy?" This time, it was Sara who asked the question.  
  
"I had to leave him for a little while. I needed to get him some more cornflakes, because cornflakes are his favorite cereal."  
  
Grissom and Sara looked at each other, expressions grim. Behind the glass mirror, Nick swore softly. Greg and Doctor Robbins shown up moments earlier, and Greg shook his head at Nancy's soft response.  
  
"We understand that. You were just trying to take care of him. Where did you leave him?"  
  
"He's scared of the dark. You have to help me find him. I don't want him to be all alone."  
  
"Nancy." Grissom's voice was firm. "Where did you last see him?"  
  
"I left him in the desert with his blanket and his elephant. I kissed him goodbye and told him I'd be back soon. He was sleeping so peacefully. I glued his eyes shut, so that if he woke up he wouldn't see that I was gone and be scared..." her voice trailed off, and tears started to fall from her eyes. "Please, you have to help me find him."  
  
Sara tried to stifle the fury quickly mounting inside her. This woman was crazy. Sara thought she was going to vomit, and indicated to Grissom and Brass she was stepping out for a minute.  
  
Standing in the hallway, she rubbed her arms vigorously before bending over from the waist, letting her hands touch the floor. After she had gotten her anger under control, she slipped back into the room. Brass was just opening the case folder, getting ready to place the pictures taken at the crime scene on the table for Nancy to look at.  
  
Sara walked over to the mirror, and leaned against it just in front of the area she had been standing beside Nick in, in the other room. She knew he was watching this, and wondered if he was handling it well. She hoped he understood her silent gesture of support.  
  
Nancy studied the pictures from the crime scene, nodding and smiling. "Yes - yes - that's my Timmy. You've found him. Isn't he beautiful? Is he okay?"  
  
"He's dead." Sara's voice surprised even her. She glared at Grissom, daring him to say anything to her, before she repeated. "He's dead."  
  
Nancy looked at Sara and smiled. "Of course he's dead. I killed him." 


	10. SYMBIOTICS

X - SYMBIOTICS  
  
"That is one seriously messed up chick." Warrick muttered. For a few moments after Nancy's revelation, the four men in the viewing room had just stood there in utter shock.  
  
"Did you see her eyes when she looked at Sara?" Greg's voice was shaky. "There is nothing there. They're just.empty."  
  
Nick was still watching Nancy intently through the glass. "That's the problem, there's something missing. I don't think she really knows what's going on. She seems like she's spaced out - not high, just . confused. I think we should try to get a psych exam for her."  
  
Dr. Robbins and Greg both snorted in disbelief, and Warwick retorted, "A psych exam? Let some shrink come in here, say she's crazy and let her get off with murder on a technicality? Nick - c'mon man. You really want to see her get off?"  
  
"No. She killed that kid, she should pay. But, look at her. Something is not right." Nick jerked his head towards Nancy.  
  
Nancy had zoned out, not responding to any of the other questions Sara and Grissom had asked her following her startling admission. Instead, she was sitting at the table, still looking at the pictures of her dead son, smiling and crying. The vulnerability Nick had noticed when he had first seen her was no longer as evident. Instead, she looked very peaceful. Every few seconds, she would caress the image she was looking at, and whisper something. Whatever she was saying was too low to be picked up by the microphones, and Nick wondered if Sara could hear what she was whispering.  
  
Indeed, Sara could hear what she was saying, even though she had to strain to do so. "See, Angel. See? I told you - I told you. I love you, my sweet angel. Your mommy loves you.."  
  
Nancy seemed to have forgotten there were three other people in the room with her. She continued looking at the photos of Timmy, sorting through them, smiling. Sara glanced at Grissom and Brass, to see what there reactions were to this turn of events.  
  
She was not surprised to see Grissom studying Nancy intently, like she was a bug under a microscope. He was normally pretty good at closing his face and not showing his emotions, but Sara detected a very un-Grissom like glimmer of anger in his gaze. Brass had a look of stoic acceptance on his face. After so many years as a police officer, he had seen pretty much everything. This didn't seem to phase him too much.  
  
Grissom suddenly looked up at Sara, his eyes flicking to the mirror behind her, and then to the door. Sara didn't think twice before nodding her agreement - they did need to regroup, and it would be valuable to see what Warrick and Nick both thought of Nancy and her confession. She silently headed out the door, in search of a babysitter.  
  
"Nancy?" Grissom said softly, "we're going to step out for a minute, but we'll be back. I need the pictures." Nancy merely looked at Grissom and smiled.  
  
"Okay, Mr. Grissom. Can I keep this one, just until you come back? He looks so peaceful, just like an angel." She flashed a close up shot of a photo of Timmy's face taken while he had been lying in the autopsy room. The way the flash had reflected off the sterile silver table under his head had caused a photographic anomaly in the print - making it look like the child was wearing a halo.  
  
Grissom glanced quickly at Brass, who simply shrugged as if to say, "What do I care?"  
  
"Fine. You can keep that one until we come back." The door to the conference room opened, and Sara re-entered with officer in tow. "In the meantime, O'Reilly will sit here with you and keep you company."  
  
*****  
  
Sara stuck her head in the viewing room, her smile acknowledging Greg and Doctor Robbins even as her gaze fell squarely on Nick. "Hey everyone - Gris wants us in the lounge. We need feedback."  
  
"And he told you this how?" Warwick responded dryly. "Telepathic mind- meld?"  
  
Sara teased back, "C'mon Warwick, cut me some slack. You know Grissom and I have a symbiotic relationship. You're just jealous."  
  
'Nope.' Nick thought to himself. 'That would be me.' He followed the other men out into the hallway, and nodded as Dr. Robbins excused himself and headed back towards his office.  
  
Greg had picked up on Warwick's and Sara's easy banter, and in typical Greg fashion was offering his two cents. "Well, actually, guys, I think Sara and Grissom are more like the Wonder-Twins." At their blank expressions, he rambled on. "You know, the Wonder-Twins? Saturday morning cartoons? The International League of Justice? 'Form of bucket! Form of water?' The two super heroes with the weird purple monkey?"  
  
He sighed in exasperation. "Oh, come on! Work with me here, people. You'd think that none of you ever watched TV when you were kids."  
  
Warwick laughed as they entered the lounge, sliding easily into a chair opposite Grissom. "Once again, Greggo, you're weird pop-culture references escape us all."  
  
Grissom looked at Greg and raised a questioning eyebrow. Greg sighed. "I told them I thought you and Sara were like the Wonder Twins." he muttered at him.  
  
"You mean those weird super hero twins from the planet Exxor who joined the Justice League? The ones with the purple monkey? Interesting. I'd say we have more of a symbiotic relationship, myself."  
  
Warwick and Sara started laughing. Even Nick chuckled. Sometimes, Grissom surprised them all. 


	11. INSIGHTS

XI - INSIGHTS  
  
The shared laughter did a lot to relieve the tension that everyone had felt after witnessing Nancy's interview. Looking around the table he and his colleagues were crowded around, Grissom realized how much this particular case had taken its toll. Despite his constant admonition not to get emotionally involved with the victoms, Grissom knew that - to a certain extent - they had all been affected by little Timmy.  
  
Grissom found his gaze drifting over to Nick, who - not surprisingly - was seated next to Sara, a far-away look in his eyes. He wondered if Nick would be able to provide any interesting insights to the interview - Nick was a keen observer of people, and Grissom had learned through experience Nick's initial instincts regarding human motivation were normally right on.  
  
Sighing to himself, he opened the case file and dropped the pictures he had retrieved from Nancy on the table. He noticed that Nick immediately reached for the one showing the tattoo on the little boys' chest, and one showing the full body of the child looking for all the world like he had merely decided to take a short nap.  
  
Grissom's voice broke the silence that had descended as the pictures of Timmy had slid across the formica table-top. "Well, guys. Any thoughts?"  
  
"I'm just wondering why she hasn't been arrested yet." Greg spoke up. "I mean, she admitted killing the kid - what's the hold up?"  
  
Warwick nodded in agreement. "Seems pretty clear to me, boss."  
  
"Nick? What do you think?"  
  
Nick shrugged. "I don't know. There's something wrong with the way this all adds up."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"You're always saying the evidence talks to us, right?" At Grissom's nod, he continued. "I can't figure out what this evidence is saying. I mean, okay, she killed him - but it just doesn't feel right. One minute, she's begging you to help her find him - knowing he's already dead, I might add - and then, when she realizes that we have him and we know he's dead, it's like she's happy about it. One minute, she's telling you she glued his eyes shut to keep him from seeing that she's gone, and the next minute she's admitting she killed him." Nick sighed. "Why would she be worried about him waking up if she knows he's already dead? Why leave him to go buy cornflakes? If she killed him on purpose, why not just get the hell out of Dodge before we catch her, instead of coming to us and asking for our help? It's not normal."  
  
Everyone sitting around the table was listening to him intently. Nick looked up at them and tried to smile, before quickly looking down at the two photos he held in his hands.  
  
"Look at the photos from the crime scene. On the one hand, we have a dead child with the words 'Broken Boy' tattooed across his chest." Here he passed the photo in question to Sara, who looked at it before passing it to her left. "Yet, in this picture we can see that he was obviously well- cared for. He's got a blanket, a stuffed toy, he looks well fed and he had recently been bathed. There're no marks on his body other than the tattoo, and he's not underweight. I really think this child was loved." The second picture followed the path the first one had, moving quickly around the table as everyone looked at it.  
  
"So, I think, the questions we should be asking Nancy should be about the tattoo and the - uhm - the sexual abuse." here Nick trailed off for a moment, looking quickly at Sara before continuing. "We need to find out how her mind works. And I really think we need to ask her about the reason she abducted her son away from her aunt and uncle's house in the first place."  
  
"Good observations, Nick." Grissom's voice was sincere. "I hadn't really looked at the pictures in that light, but you're absolutely right. What we know doesn't fit with what we see. The evidence is talking to us, but instead of being fibers and DNA, its Timmy himself. I think we should go back and talk to his mother again. And Nick? I'd like you to go in with Sara. I'll observe."  
  
Nick looked at Grissom in surprise. "Why me? Don't you want to finish this?"  
  
Grissom nodded. "I do. That's why I'm sending you in to talk to her. I'm the bug guy; you're the people person. I think we have a better chance of getting the answers we need if we send in someone who communicates a little better with people than I do. And, in this case, I think your empathy for this boy and his mother will get us the results we need."  
  
As an olive branch, Grissom's statement couldn't have been more timely. Nick looked at Grissom smiled.  
  
"Thanks Grissom. I appreciate your trust." 


	12. ATTRACTION

XII - ATTRACTION  
  
"Are you sure you're okay to do this, Nick?" Sara and Nick were momentarily alone in the break-room. Nick was pouring himself a cup of coffee. Brass and Grissom had both been paged a couple of minutes ago, and Grissom had told everyone to take 5 minutes. Warrick had excused himself to go make a quick call, and Greg had said to no one in particular that he was going back to his lab.  
  
"Yeah, Sara. I'll be fine." Nick looked at her smiled sadly, leaning back against the counter. His dark eyes were swimming with emotion, and Sara realized that regardless of what he said, he was still very much on edge - just hiding it better than he had yesterday. She walked over to him, placing a gentle hand on his chest.  
  
"Listen, Nick. You don't have to put on a front for me. It's not necessary. I know how hard it's going to be to go into that room, and sit across from that woman and talk to her about Timmy and the tattoo. And the abuse."  
  
Nick shrugged his shoulders. "It will be hard," he agreed. "I won't deny that. But, I know there's something else going on here. I'm pretty sure she's not the one who sexually abused him, and I need to know who did - for my own piece of mind." He looked at her hand, still resting on his chest, and covered it with a strong hand of his own. Putting his coffee down, he reached up with his other hand and slid Sara's hair behind her ear. Sara leaned her cheek lightly into his palm as he did so, and felt a little frisson of pleasure tingle along her cheek bone.  
  
The strength of his hand covering hers had forced her fingers flat, and she could feel along the length of her palm the ribbed texture of the black knit shirt Nick was wearing. His heart was beating strong and steady, and the rhythm of it affected her all the way to her toes. She looked at him intently, watching as his eyes flickered through a myriad of emotions - sadness, pain and anger quickly giving way to need. Sara marveled at how easy he was to read, unlike Grissom, who never gave anything away. Nick laid himself bare to her with just one look, showing her everything in his heart with just a slight darkening of his eyes.  
  
"Sara." Nick leaned forward without conscious thought, groaning her name softly. The hand at her cheek slid slowly back, more firmly cupping the base of her skull, and her silky hair tangled around his fingers like satin ribbons. His lips brushed against hers gently, once - twice - three times, before pulling away. He looked at her and smiled, his eyes smoldering, as he noticed the answering embers in hers.  
  
"So," he murmured, "can I come for breakfast again today?"  
  
"Only if you make me crepes again." She whispered back.  
  
"Ahem." The sudden sound of a voice clearing made Sara and Nick jump apart, startled. Catherine Willows stood in the doorway of the lounge, a look of amused curiosity on her face. "Am I interrupting anything?"  
  
"Catherine! What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be back until tomorrow. How was Disney World? Lindsey like it?" Sara chattered inanely, a dark blush staining her cheeks, as she stepped away from Nick. Nick simply picked up his coffee cup, leaned back against the counter and raised a sardonic eyebrow at Catherine.  
  
"I decided to come in and see if you guys needed help with anything. Disney World was great, Lindsey loved it, and now she's with Eddie." Catherine responded. "Anything new around here?" she smirked.  
  
"Uhm.yeah. Interesting case - little boy found in the desert. His mother killed him with anti-freeze. Past evidence of sexual abuse, but Nicky's doing okay.." Sara stopped her startled chatter in shock, realizing what she had just said. "Uhm - I mean -"  
  
Nick stepped forward and gave Sara's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay Sara. Catherine knows."  
  
Catherine watched the exchange with interest. It wasn't often that Sara became flustered, and it was mildly amusing. She also noted with surprise the gentle, protective way Nick defused the situation, just by touching Sara on the shoulder. It took a few moments for his words to register, and when they did, Catherine glanced at him in surprise. "You told Sara about the babysitter?"  
  
Nick merely nodded. "Yeah. She needed to know." He glanced at Sara again, and smiled. She was looking at her feet miserably. He squeezed her shoulder gently again, before shepherding her to the door.  
  
"We're just headed down to interview the suspect. Grissom is probably waiting for us by now - he's going to watch."  
  
* * * * *  
  
As Nick had stated, Grissom was standing at the doorway next to the interview room, talking to Brass. He looked up as Nick and Sara came down the hallway, frowning slightly when he noticed Nick's hand riding the base of Sara's spine. When he saw Catherine, he smiled.  
  
"Catherine! You're back!"  
  
"Hey Grissom. Sara sort of filled me in on this case - can I join you?"  
  
"You know you can." Grissom's response was warm. He nodded at Nick and Sara. "Brass isn't staying - the sheriff from Timmy's home town called him, and told him the aunt and uncle are arriving here within the next 45 minutes. He's going to go to the airport and pick them up."  
  
"Timmy? Who's he?" Catherine asked, confused.  
  
"Timmy's our victim." Grissom responded.  
  
"Oh." It took a moment for Catherine to process this information. "Since when do you start referring to victims by their first name, Grissom?"  
  
Grissom had the grace to look embarrassed. "Since this case." He quickly changed the subject. "Greg is running some tests in the lab the day shift hadn't gotten around to yet, and Warrick is going to get the paperwork ready for us to release the body to the aunt and uncle. You guys ready?" At Nick's tight nod, Grissom sighed.  
  
"Then, let us begin."  
  
___________  
  
Author's note: thanks for all the reviews! This piece has been really fun to write so far, and it's my first long work of fanfic ever, so I really appreciate the feedback. Jessica - thanks for pointing out the spelling of Warrick's name - I don't know why I did that, but I suppose writing at 3:00 am in the morning is as good a reason as any! I'm normally a big GS shipper, but there's just something about Nick in this story. 


	13. SCAR TISSUE

XIII - ANSWERS  
  
Catherine followed Grissom into the viewing room, walking over and looking at Nancy through the one-way mirror. "That's our suspect? She's just a kid!"  
  
"Yeah. Well, she's not really a suspect anymore. She admitted to killing her son." Grissom watched as Nick and Sara entered the room, relieving O'Reilly, before sitting down at the table, opposite Nancy.  
  
"Then what's with the questions?" Catherine was genuinely curious. "Why not just arrest her?"  
  
Grissom quickly outlined the details of the case, explaining Nick's observations. He ended with, "I know you've picked up on the fact that we're all a little bit more involved emotionally than we should be, but Nick's right. There is something we don't know, and I think we need to find out what it is before any of us can really let this case go."  
  
Catherine raised her eyebrow. "Anything else you feel like telling me?" At Grissom's confused look, she elaborated. "Anything else - like maybe, what the hell is going on with Sara and Nick?"  
  
Grissom looked surprised. "Catherine, you've only been back at the station for less than 15 minutes. How in the world do you know about Sara and Nick?"  
  
"I found them in a rather intimate conversation in the lounge when I came in. I just thought it was odd." She noted the quick look of pain that crossed Grissom's features before he quickly shuttered his expression. "So, care to tell me about it?"  
  
"What's to tell? Nick was upset yesterday with this case, Sara talked to him, and now he feels better."  
  
"Is that it?" Grissom shot Catherine an irritated glance.  
  
"Is what it?"  
  
"C'mon Grissom. Don't be dense - it doesn't become you. Nick has feelings for her."  
  
Grissom sighed. "Yeah, I know. He told me today that he's in love with her."  
  
Catherine raised her eyebrows again in surprise. "Interesting. And what would prompt Nick to divulge that information to you?"  
  
"I drove him into work today. Sara had his truck. It just came up." Grissom wouldn't look at her.  
  
"Okay. You don't want to go into detail. I understand." Catherine was silent for a few moments, before saying. "What are you going to do about it?"  
  
"About what? Sara and Nick?" At Catherine's short nod, Grissom sighed. "Nothing. What can I do?"  
  
"What can you do? Grissom - you love her too! Are you just going to let Nick sweep in without at least telling her how you feel?"  
  
"That's the general plan, yeah." Grissom looked at his hands, bracing them against the small sill surrounding the viewing window. At Catherine's snort of disgust, he responded angrily. "What do you want me to do? Get in a competition with Nick? We're not two moose during rutting season. Sara's a big girl, she can decide for herself."  
  
Catherine interrupted him. "How can she decide anything if she doesn't know all her choices?"  
  
"Catherine, look at me. Now look at Nick. Who do you think Sara would choose? Who would you choose? Nick is younger, better looking, and not as set in his ways as I am. He'd be good for her."  
  
"You'd be good for her too Grissom. How many years have you been in love with her, now? I suspect it's been longer than the two years she's been here with us. Are you just willing to put aside all that invested emotion, and let Nick have her? Believe me; if you've loved her as long as I think you have, it's not going to just go away because she's with Nick."  
  
"No. I know that, and I except it. But this is my life, Catherine, and I'll run it as I see fit. I had two years to tell her how I felt, and I wasted them. Nick was right. It's his turn now."  
  
"But."  
  
"No Catherine. I don't want to discuss this anymore. It's over."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Nick and Sara sat silently, watching Nancy closely. Not much had changed since the initial interview had finished. Nancy was still looking at the one picture Grissom had left with her, but instead of talking, she was singing.  
  
"Hush little baby, don't say a word.."  
  
Sara shuddered. "Nancy?"  
  
"Momma's gonna buy you a mockingbird." "Nancy?" Nick's deep voice filled the room. "Nancy? Hi, I'm Nick Stokes." Nancy glanced at him before looking back down at her picture. Nick tried again, "I want to talk to you about Timmy."  
  
"Timmy?" she responded. "Isn't he a great kid? Do you know him?"  
  
Underneath the table, he felt Sara give his knee a quick squeeze. "Yeah," he sighed, "I know him." He reached into the file he had been holding, and pulled out the two photos he had passed around in the lounge earlier. "In fact, I have a couple of pictures here I want you to look at. Maybe you can answer a few questions for me."  
  
Nancy leaned forward eagerly. "Pictures? Of my Timmy?" She eagerly took them from Nick's outstretched hand, barely glancing at the one with the tattoo before dropping it back to the table. Her fingers gently traced the outline of his form on the other picture, and she looked at Nick with tears in her eyes. "He's okay now, isn't he? He's safe now."  
  
"For the time being, yes, he's safe. Nancy, do you know who put this tattoo on him?"  
  
Nancy stared at Nick blankly, refusing to look at the photo he pushed towards her. She wrapped her arms tightly around her thin frame, rocking herself back and forth. "I don't want to talk about it."  
  
"Nancy," Nick's voice was surprisingly gentle, "we need to know. Did you do this?"  
  
"No! No.I would never hurt Timmy like that. I loved him."  
  
"But you killed him. You made him drink anti-freeze."  
  
"I told him it was blue kool-aid. I know what I did, Mr. Stokes, I'm not stupid."  
  
"Nancy, I'm trying to understand." He looked at Sara, momentarily at a loss. "Nancy, did you know Sara and I are the two that took these pictures? We were there with him. And you know what I remember most - he smelled like baby-powder. You took good care of him - why did you want to kill him?"  
  
"I didn't want to kill him, Mr. Stokes. I wanted to set him free."  
  
"Did you know he was sexually abused? Our doctor found internal scarring. Do you know who did that to him? Did you want to set him free from the person who hurt him?"  
  
"When you're dead, you can't be hurt anymore, can you Mr. Stokes? I was scared because I left him alone in the desert. I was afraid that Earl had found him."  
  
"Is Earl your uncle?"  
  
Nancy didn't respond. "If he is, he's coming here. He's coming to get Timmy and take him back to Michigan. And you're going to have to stay here, because we're going to need to arrest you for killing your son."  
  
Nancy looked at him, stricken. "Earl is coming here?" she started crying. "He can't have Timmy again."  
  
Nick felt sick to his stomach. His knuckles were white. Beside him, he could hear Sara's breathing, which had become rapid and shallow. He knew Sara was trying to control her temper, and he gently placed his hand over hers on the table top. "Relax, Sara." He whispered. Her fingers squeezed his. She understood.  
  
"Nancy, maybe we can keep him from taking Timmy, but you have to tell us why. Is he the one that hurt Timmy? Is he the one that made him get that tattoo?"  
  
Nancy nodded miserably. "He hurt Timmy, he hurt him and he hurt me too. He did bad things to me." Before Nick and Sara could react, Nancy grabbed the bottom of her sweater and ripped it over her head. Nick recoiled in shock at what Nancy revealed. Her upper body was a mass of scar lines, with intermittent tattoos across her chest and stomach. Where he would normally expect to see breasts, he saw only purple scars. The words 'Whore' and 'Slut' were tattooed underneath the marks.  
  
"Oh my God." Nick heard Sara's agonized whisper, and turned to see that she had tears in her eyes. "Did he do that to you, Nancy? Did your uncle do that to you?"  
  
Nancy nodded miserably. "He always hurt me. But he told the doctors that I did it to myself. He told them I was crazy. Aunt Becky knew, but she lied too. Uncle Earl is an important man. Everyone thinks he's so good, but he's the devil."  
  
"Did he ever rape you, Nancy?" Nick's voice was gentle, but there was an anger in his eyes that Nancy saw immediately.  
  
"Are you angry at me, Mr. Stokes? Please don't be angry with me!"  
  
"Nancy, I'm not angry at you. I'm angry that this happened to you." He paused for a second, before continuing, "Did he rape you?"  
  
Nancy nodded miserably. "He made me do horrible things. Horrible. And when I got older, he used to carve me." She looked at Nick, and her demeanor changed. Her voice got harder, her eyes hate-filled. "You're a little slut, aren't you Nancy? You like it when I hurt you - don't you Nancy? No one will ever believe you, Nancy. I'm going to keep you chained to this bed until you stop screaming, Nancy!" She looked at her exposed scars. "Look what he did to me! Look what he did to me! He cut off my breasts."  
  
Nancy stopped screaming, and the sudden silence in the room was deafening. Nick and Sara looked at each other in shock, before Nick picked up Nancy's discarded sweater. Slowly moving around the table towards Nancy, he gently placed a tender hand on her shoulder and with sure swift movements quickly dressed her. He reached down and tenderly placed the picture of Timmy Grissom had left with her in her hand, and smiled at her in mutual understanding and compassion.  
  
"No one can hurt Timmy anymore, Nancy. You've set him free." 


	14. WHERE THERE'S SMOKE, THERE'S DNA

XIV - WHERE THERE'S SMOKE, THERE'S DNA  
  
"That was intense." Catherine muttered at Grissom. "Please remind me about this case the next time I decide to come back a day early from vacation."  
  
Grissom smiled at Catherine's weak attempt at humor. "Yeah. Well." He turned and looked at Nancy through the glass, and shook his head. "That poor kid."  
  
O'Reilly was back in his familiar chair, reading the newspaper as he watched Nancy covertly. Grissom sighed again. "Nick did a good job though."  
  
"Yeah." Catherine's response was soft. "That was harder for him to do than you could ever know Grissom. C'mon. Let's go find them."  
  
Stepping out into the hallway, Catherine blinked against the bright light. She saw Nick and Sara speaking softly to one another less than ten feet away, both their faces expressing the same shock Catherine herself had been feeling moments ago.  
  
She noted Nick's hands gently kneading Sara's shoulders as they talked, and was not surprised when Sara stepped inwards and placed her forehead in the middle of Nick's chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. Nick's face was ravaged with anguish, but he looked down at Sara's bent head and smiled a smile of such tenderness, Catherine felt tears threaten.  
  
'My God,' she thought. 'He really does love her.' She glanced quickly at Grissom, and saw the deeply hidden pain in his eyes. 'Someone is in for a world of hurt here.'  
  
Nick heard their approach before he actually saw them. Raising his gaze from Sara, he sighed. "Hey, guys."  
  
"How you holding up Nicky?" Catherine asked him softly.  
  
"Fine. I'm doing fine." He closed his eyes and shook his head ruefully. "That was something else."  
  
Grissom's voice was quiet and sad. "Yeah. But you did a good job, Nick."  
  
Sara lifted her head from Nick's chest, and gingerly pushed herself away from him. "I never thought I'd see the day I would feel sorry for someone who murdered her own child."  
  
"The question now, is: What are we going to do?" Nick's voice was surprisingly determined. "Knowing what we know, what can we do? I'll be damned if I let her aunt and uncle take Timmy."  
  
"I don't see how we have much of a choice, Nick." Grissom responded. At Nick's angry scowl, he said placatingly. "I'm not saying I didn't believe her Nick. I saw those scars. She didn't do that to herself. And she obviously is severely emotionally disturbed - a symptom of deep-seated abuse." Grissom was almost talking to himself, now. "We need some leverage. Somewhere, somehow, there has to be something that can verify her story."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Warwick, Nick and Sara were sitting in the lounge, re-reading the case file Brass had been sent from Michigan, when Grissom walked into the room, cell phone in hand.  
  
"Yeah, Brass. After you've taken them to the Monaco, can you hurry back? Some things have come up. Okay good. See you soon." Hanging up, he looked around the room. "One problem solved. I was sort of worried that Brass was going to show up with Earl and Becky tonight, but he's convinced them it can wait until tomorrow." He glanced at the case-file. "Find anything?"  
  
"Not yet." Nick's voice was determined. "But we will."  
  
The smell of hot food drifted into the lounge, followed closely by Catherine, who was precariously balancing two pizzas and a six-pack coke. "It's a good thing I came back a day early - you need someone around to remind you to eat."  
  
Warwick smiled at her in appreciation. "Cath, you're a goddess! I'm starved."  
  
Greg stuck his head in the doorway. "Do I smell pizza?"  
  
"Sure do - come in and join us." Catherine quickly handed everyone a slice of pizza and a can of coke. "Don't worry Sara, yours is vegetarian."  
  
A comfortable silence settled as everyone ate. Catherine idly scanned the report from Children's Services that had been included in the files, being careful not to get grease on it.  
  
"Hmm. This is interesting. Father on the birth certificate is listed as unknown." She put her slice of pizza down and flipped backwards a couple of pages, frowning. "Nancy lived with her aunt and uncle until just after Timmy's birth. According to sworn affidavits here, the girl didn't attend school from the time she was ten until she left the house, because of her precarious mental health."  
  
Warrick looked up, considering what Catherine had just said. "So, she would have been home a lot. No access to boys from her school..She admits her uncle sexually assaulted her."  
  
"Earl is Timmy's father." Nick looked ill. "This could be the clue we've been looking for. If Earl is Timmy's father, he can be charged with statutory rape of a minor, at the very least."  
  
"Grissom!" Brass' voice boomed from the doorway. "I'm back. What's going on?"  
  
"Pull up a seat, Brass. You won't believe what we've discovered."  
  
* * * * *  
  
By the time Grissom filled Brass in on what had happened during his absence, Brass' face was just as grim as everyone else's. "Sick bastard. You're sure she's telling the truth?"  
  
"Brass, if you had seen her, you'd know for sure yourself. Now we just have to prove it, and I have a feeling Uncle Earl won't be open to giving us a DNA sample." Grissom looked a little frustrated. "And I don't know on what grounds we would be able to get one from him."  
  
Brass pursed his lips thoughtfully, steepling his fingers together and tapping them on the table. "Greg? Could you get someone's DNA off the filter of a cigarette?"  
  
Greg looked at Brass and nodded. "Yeah, sure. Easy." His grinned slyly. "Don't tell me Earl smokes?"  
  
"Like a friggin' chimney. The ashtray in my car is overflowing." Brass smiled, and reached into his pocket, tossing his keys at Warwick as he spoke. "I'm in my usual spot. Want to go clean my car for me?"  
  
"Absolutely." Warwick stood quickly, smiling at Greg. "You coming, Greggo?"  
  
"Absolutely!" 


	15. PROOVING PATERNITY

XV - PROOVING PATERNITY  
  
Grissom leaned in the doorway of the lounge, a small smile on his face, as he watched Sara going over the case file once again. Nick and Catherine were with Greg and Warrick in the lab, waiting for the DNA results to come back from the cigarette filters. They had taken a swab from Nancy not that long ago, after explaining to her what they needed it for. She had just looked at them vacantly, before nodding. "If it will keep Earl from Timmy."  
  
The last 36 hours had been hard on Grissom. He had been forced to re- evaluate himself and the way he interacted with people, especially in regards to the sudden Nick/Sara relationship that seemed to be developing out of thin air. He was annoyed to discover that he was jealous of their easy rapport with each other, and admitted to himself it had bothered him for a long time.  
  
Grissom was not a man who easily revealed his heart. He was a man of intense emotion, but he buried it deep behind 'scientific method' and tried to keep it there. Grissom remembered what had happened the last time he had allowed himself to really feel, and it wasn't a performance he wanted to repeat.  
  
Had Grissom been a younger man, he might have thrown caution to the wind and told Sara how he felt, but age had made him cautious. Once, long ago, he had been able to love freely. He had loved his mother.  
  
He had grown up in a house with a deaf mother and a hearing father, who had loved each other at one time. As his mother's hearing had diminished and disappeared, Grissom had watched their relationship change from one of equality and mutual respect to something different. His mother still loved her husband, but he no longer seemed to love her.  
  
The young Grissom had been hurt by his fathers increasing disregard for his mothers' feelings. As an adult, he could see that his father had resented his mothers' constant dependence on him. As she had lost her hearing, she had changed. She didn't want to go out anymore; she was scared to be alone. But the more clingy and needy she became, the more his dad had pushed her away. His mother was always crying, and his father was always angry. Grissom, who had loved his mother very much, had started hating his father. He had begged his mother to leave him, had promised her he would take care of her, but she had refused.  
  
One day, Grissom had come home from work and found his father beating his mother. Grissom had exploded, throwing himself on his father and allowing all his pent up rage out. He probably would have beaten him to death if his mother hadn't stopped him. Later that evening, she had packed his bags.  
  
"You have to go." She had signed.  
  
"Me? Why? He was hurting you." Grissom's hands had flashed back.  
  
"You have to go." She kept her face carefully blank, and repeated what she had first signed.  
  
"How can you stay with him? He's a bastard." His fingers danced around the signs, jerking and angry. "Come with me, and I'll never let him hurt you again. Don't make me leave here without you, Mom. I love you."  
  
"And I love him. Please go, and don't come back."  
  
And that was the last time Grissom had seen either of his parents. He tried not to think about it that often, but the realization that his mother didn't love him as much as he had loved her had hurt him deeply.  
  
Grissom had thrown himself info his studies and his work, and over the years had tried to cut emotion out of his life. He had become cynical, and everyday, with every crime scene he processed, he became more so. Most violent crime was based in emotion - 'Crimes of passion' - never had a truer phrase been coined.  
  
But there was something in Sara that appealed to the locked up poet in his soul. Maybe it was her eyes, or her smile, or simply her way of being - and Grissom had slowly been exploring and analyzing his feelings for her. He had known for a long time now that he could love her, but he had been scared that she couldn't love him. And now he found himself in the untenable position of watching someone else - a man he considered a good friend - making a run for Sara.  
  
He was startled out of his reverie with the sudden realization that she was looking at him. Her head was cocked to the side, and her glance was bemused.  
  
"Gris? Whatcha' doing?"  
  
"Oh. Nothing, just wool-gathering." He walked into the room, and slid easily into the empty chair next to hers. "Can't really do a whole lot right now until the DNA results come back."  
  
Sara smiled at him. "You seem different somehow. More.involved with this case than you normally are."  
  
Grissom nodded absently. "Yes, I suppose I am. It's just unlike anything I've ever seen before. The things people do in the name of love." His voice drifted off, and he grabbed another stack of papers, skimming through them again, slouching back into his chair.  
  
The minutes ticked by. Sara was singing to herself as she read, tapping her foot softly on the floor.  
  
~Where is this love, that will open the doors, where is this love, to make me cry out for more, where is this love, that comes from above, where is this love, where is this love.~  
  
Suddenly the singing stopped. Grissom looked at Sara, who was worrying her lip between her teeth, brows creased in concentration.  
  
"Grissom. Look at this." She handed him the page she had been reading, and quickly started looking through the file for something she had read earlier. It was a psych evaluation for Nancy. Grissom looked at it curiously.  
  
"What am I looking for?"  
  
"About a third of the way down - it says the family has a history of mental illness. See?" she pointed to the paragraph in question. "Nancy's mother committed suicide."  
  
"And?"  
  
Sara kept shuffling papers, and then smiled in excitement when she found what she was looking for. "Coroner's report on the mother. The coroner indicated here she was into self-mutilation."  
  
Grissom scanned the report, one eyebrow raised. "Interesting. How old was Nancy's mother when she died?"  
  
"Twenty-five. Nancy was just a baby."  
  
"Why did she go to her aunt and uncle? Why not her father."  
  
Sara smiles. "Her father is listed as unknown."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Hey guys, wait until you hear this." Greg bounced into the room, an excited grin on his face. He was quickly followed by the other three CSI's.  
  
"The DNA from Earl is a match for Timmy?" Grissom asked.  
  
"Well, yes. That goes without saying. This is even better. Want to guess?"  
  
"Greg." Nick's voice held a warning, but he was smiling. Greg looked at him and shrugged, and turned back to Grissom and Sara.  
  
"Okay, okay. So, we get the DNA back, and I'm looking at it. It matches Timmy, but something is strange. Too many similar markers - so, I cross- referenced Earl to Nancy. Earl is Nancy's father, too."  
  
__________  
  
Author's note: the song Sara is humming is "Where is this Love?" by the Payola$. I thought maybe I would try to create a little bit of a back- story here to try to explain why Grissom is so -Grissom. Let me know if you all think it works. Thanks. 


	16. THE BEST OF TIMES

XV - THE BEST OF TIMES  
  
"What the hell do you mean Earl is her father?" Brass glared at Grissom. They were sitting in Grissom's office, and Brass was having a hard time absorbing all that his friend was telling him.  
  
"Greg found it, but the clues were there in the case file. We need to get more information from Michigan. I think it might be an idea to tell the sheriff there what's going on. I want him onboard when we make an arrest. Since the physical and sexual abuse didn't occur in Nevada, we really can't hold him. I want to make sure this guy gets prosecuted when he returns home. And I also want him charged in connection with Nancy's mother." Grissom looked at Brass and sighed in disgust. "Also, I want to have him fax to us - if he can send it - the entire case-file on Nancy's mother, Emily Elizabeth Watson. Her death was ruled a suicide, but I want to see the entire coroners report to make sure that's the case."  
  
"Geez, this guy is a real piece of work." Brass sighed in disgust. "I've met some scumbags in my time, but if half of what you're telling me is true, this guy takes the cake. What are we going to do about the girl?"  
  
"I have her in a holding cell right now. We're going to have to arrest her for the murder of her child." Grissom took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He could feel a migraine headache coming on. "Doesn't the DA owe you a favor?"  
  
At Brass' nod, Grissom continued. "Could we see if we could get some type of deal for her? The girl obviously has mental problems, and who can blame her? Nick wants to set her up with a good lawyer, and see if we can get her someplace where she can be helped."  
  
"I'll see what I can do. I've arranged for Earl and Becky to come by later this afternoon to talk with us, fill out paperwork, that kind of thing." Brass looked at his watch, and headed out the door. "Listen, its 7:00 am. You guys have been at this case all night, and I have a feeling you'll all want to be here when Earl comes in at 4:00. Why don't you send everyone home for a few hours? I'll call Michigan, see what I can get from the sheriff there, and we can all reconvene around 1:30? That should give everyone time to de-stress a little and catch their breath. And, since I know you won't go home, why don't you come down to my office and crash out on the couch there. I can use the phone at the front desk."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Sara noted with concern the tension in Grissom's face as he walked into the lounge. He looked like he was getting a headache, and Sara hoped it wouldn't turn into a full-blown migraine on him.  
  
"Hey Gris!" she greeted him. "You getting a headache?"  
  
Grissom merely grunted. "Yeah. I was just coming down here to tell you guys to leave. Brass is working on some things for me, and Earl won't be showing up here until later this afternoon. Brass suggested you all go home, get some rest, and meet back here at 1:30 this afternoon. That is, assuming, you want to be here when Earl shows up."  
  
"Oh yeah. I want to be here." Nick stood and stretched. "There's nothing I want more."  
  
Warwick nodded in agreement. "I want to see the look on his face when we tell him what we know. As a matter of fact, I think I'll enjoy it." He unfolded his lanky frame from the small stool he had been sitting on, and headed out the door. "I'll go tell Catherine. She went down to make sure that Nancy was settling in comfortably in her holding cell." He smiled at the irony of trying to make a woman who had murdered her child comfortable. "You know her - not happy unless she's mothering someone. See ya!"  
  
Sara was still looking at Grissom in concern. "Grissom - you have your headache medicine here?"  
  
"Yeah. Top left hand desk drawer in my office."  
  
"Nicky, would you go get it for him? Here Grissom - sit down." She indicated the chair she had just vacated, and Grissom sank into it gratefully. As he had suspected, his headache was quickly becoming a full- blown migraine. It felt like someone was trying to drive an anvil through his head.  
  
Sara grabbed Grissom's hand, and immediately began applying pressure to the fleshy part of his hand, between the thumb and index finger. "Tell me if this hurts."  
  
"What are you doing, Sara?" Grissom's voice was low.  
  
"I read the other day that the human hand, just like feet, is full of pressure points. Apparently, applying the proper amount of pressure to certain areas of the hand can help relieve different ailments. The part that I'm applying pressure on here," she squeezed the area tightly to demonstrate, "can help relieve migraines."  
  
"So, it works along the same lines as acupuncture."  
  
"Exactly!" Sara smiled. "Feel any better?"  
  
Grissom smiled at her weakly. "A little, believe it or not." Sara continued rubbing hand, and rub leaned his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. The pain in his head was actually receding somewhat, and whether this was due to Sara's pressure point massage or her soothing presence, Grissom had no idea.  
  
When Nick returned to the lounge moments later with Grissom's medicine, he was sleeping like a baby. He tried to school his face into one of supreme non-concern when he saw Sara holding Grissom's hand.  
  
"I'm back."  
  
Sara turned towards Nick and smiled her thanks when he handed her Grissom's pills. Gently, she placed Grissom's hand down on his lap, before opening the bottle up and shaking two out.  
  
"Grissom. Grissom. Nick's back with your pills. C'mon, you have to have them."  
  
Grissom opened his eyes slowly. "Okay."  
  
"I don't think you should be driving like this. You want Nicky and I to take you home?"  
  
"No - Brass offered me the sofa in his office. Something might come up, and I want to be here."  
  
Sara sighed, knowing it was no use arguing with him. "Okay, than. We'll see you later. Try to get some rest." She turned to Nick, smiling. "We still on for breakfast?"  
  
"Your place, or mine?" Nick responded, as he followed Sara out the doorway.  
  
Watching them leave together, Grissom felt his migraine return full force.  
  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
They ended up at Nick's house. Nick had made the call, because he was pretty sure he had used up the last of Sara's eggs that morning. Well he was cooking, Sara had asked if she could put on some music, and was busy scanning his CDs. After a few minutes, Nick heard his CD player open up, and Styx's 'Mr. Roboto' began playing.  
  
"Styx okay?" Sara asked, popping into the kitchen. "I've got it going on random." She listened for a few minutes, and did a quick little robot dance across the kitchen floor, laughing at Nick's amused grin. "What? That was cool in the '80s!"  
  
Sara quickly set his kitchen table, peppering him with questions. "Where's the sugar? "Where's the butter? Where're the plates?"  
  
Finally, breakfast was ready, and Sara eagerly dug into her food. "Just as good as I remembered." She smiled at Nick, and patted her stomach. "I could get used to this."  
  
Nick just smiled back. "The way to a woman's heart.and all that."  
  
They sat in companionable silence, Sara's shoulders moving to the sound of the music as she ate. Finally, she spoke up.  
  
"I was really proud of you today, Nicky."  
  
"Yeah? How come?"  
  
"I never realized before how compassionate you are. After Nancy admitted she killed her son, I thought that would be that. But you kept your eyes focused on the big picture - the whole of Timmy's case - the abuse and everything else, and you saw something there that no one else saw." Sara glanced at Nick, and saw that he was listening to her intently, the expression on his face both pleased and embarrassed.  
  
"Yeah, and what was that?"  
  
"You saw a mother who loved her son. And you didn't judge her for doing the only thing she thought she could to prevent him from being hurt some more." Sara's eyes suddenly filled with tears, and she looked down at the kitchen table. "You're a good man, Nicky."  
  
Nick quickly moved to her side, putting his hand under her chin and gently lifting it until he was looking into her eyes. With his other hand, he reached out and gently brushed away her tears. "And you are crying why?" he whispered softly.  
  
"I think it's just tension. A release of tension." She smiled at him through her tears. "Bet you're gonna say: 'There's better ways of relieving tension Sara!'" She drawled in a deep Texas accent, and waggled her eyebrows at him.  
  
Her unexpected teasing caught Nick completely off guard. At the surprised look on his face, she burst into laughter, and pretty soon Nick joined her. They laughed until their sides hurt, hugging each other in mirth. When their laughter finally subsided, Nick poured two cups of coffee and headed into his living room, plopping himself down on the sofa, and patting the empty space beside him.  
  
"Ooh. My sides hurt." Sara complained, smiling at Nick.  
  
Nick nodded in agreement. "I haven't laughed that hard in years. It feels good."  
  
They sipped their coffee in silence. Sara had twisted sideways, and was studying Nick intently as she drank. She always had the best time when she was with him. Throughout her life, people had accused her of being cold and stand-offish, but she wasn't really. She just wasn't comfortable around others because most people just didn't seem to get her.  
  
With Nick, she felt completely at ease - even more comfortable than she felt with Grissom, whom she had known for years. However, with Grissom, she had always been aware of her infatuation with him, and never could fully relax because she was afraid he would find out. Her gaze was drawn to Nick's lips as he sipped coffee from his mug, before trailing down to his strong hands. She didn't know when it had happened, or how it had happened, but Sara realized that she was attracted to Nicky.  
  
Nick could feel Sara's eyes looking at him, and pretended not to notice. He was afraid if he turned to look at her, everything he was feeling at the moment would be plainly visible on his face. Sara completed him at an elemental level he couldn't even begin to comprehend. When he was with her, he felt whole. When he made her smile and laugh, he felt like the most brilliant man on earth.  
  
For two years, he had tried to ignore what he felt for her, because he was so sure that she and Grissom would eventually act on their attraction, but it had never happened. He took a sip of his coffee, and watched in his peripheral vision as Sara's eyes followed his movements. His heart was pounding so hard, he thought it was going to burst.  
  
In the background, he heard Dennis DeYoung singing about the best of times. He reached over and put his coffee mug on the end table. "Sara? Would you like to dance with me?"  
  
Sara slowly mimicked his movements, placing her mug down, and slowly standing. "I'd love to dance with you Nicky."  
  
~ I know you feel these are the worst of times. I do believe it's true. When people lock their doors, and hide inside, rumor has it it's the end of paradise. But I know, if the world if the world just passed us by, baby I know, I wouldn't have to cry.  
  
The best of times, are when I'm alone with you. Some rain some shine, we'll make this a world for two. Our memories of yesterday will last a lifetime, we'll take the best forget the rest and some day we'll find these are the best of times, these are the best of times.  
  
The headlines read 'These Are the Worst of Times'; I do believe it's true. I feel so helpless like a boat against the tide. I wish the summer winds could bring back paradise. But I know, if the world turned upside down, baby I know you'd always be around  
  
The best of times are when I'm alone with you. Some rain some shine, we'll make this a world for two. Our memories of yesterday will last a lifetime, we'll take the best forget the rest and some day we'll find these are the best of times; these are the best of times.  
  
When I'm alone with you, you brighten up the night, when I'm alone with you.~  
  
The snick of the CD player changing tunes was the only sound in the room. The sweet strains of "Come Sail Away" filled the silence, and Nick and Sara continued dancing. Nick had his arms around Sara, one strong hand splayed across her back, the other caressing the base of her head. Sara's arms dangled over Nick's shoulders, and her head was tucked securely under his chin. Their movement was languorous and slow, their legs rubbing together as the swayed to the music.  
  
"These are, you know." Sara's voice was muffled against his chest. Nick could feel her breath through his t-shirt. It made his heard pound.  
  
"What are?"  
  
"These are the best of times. I like being alone with you Nick." Sara pushed her head away from his chest and smiled at him. Nick smiled back.  
  
"I like being alone with you too, Sara." They were still swaying together, but neither was paying attention to the music anymore.  
  
"Nicky?"  
  
"Yes, Sara?"  
  
"Are you going to kiss me again? Like you did today in the lounge room?"  
  
Nick's eyes drifted to her lips, and he leaned forward, gently touching his mouth to hers. "Like that?" He leaned in for another kiss, this one harder, more passionate. "Or like that?"  
  
"I don't know." Sara teased. "Try again - I'll have to study the evidence before I tell you which one is better."  
  
Nick laughed, dipping his head in for another kiss. Sara tasted like coffee and crepes. Nick groaned as her tongue traced the ridge of his lips, and he felt her fingers weave through his hair pulling him closer. They stood there like that for several minutes, teasing and tasting each other, hands exploring, before Sara pulled away from Nicky and smiled.  
  
"Say it Nick!" she demanded.  
  
Nick looked at her and waggled his eyebrows. "There are better ways of relieving tension, Sara!" He leaned in for another quick kiss, before whispering, "Wanna try them?"  
  
Sara's smile was blinding, as she slid her hands up underneath his shirt, running her hands over the firm muscles on his chest. "Yes, Nicky."  
  
________  
  
Author's note: For those of you who don't own a Styx album, I suggest starting with their Greatest Hits. It's great stuff. For those of you who were pushing for a Grissom/ Sara 'ship here, sorry - no can do. This is too much Nicky's story. 


	17. KEEPING SECRETS

XVII - KEEPING SECRETS  
  
The first thing Warrick noticed when he walked into the lounge at 1:15 was that Nick was there before him. That in itself was unusual - Nick was normally the last guy to arrive. The second thing he noticed was that Nick's eyes were closed, a big smile was on his face, and he was singing to himself. Singing! ~The best of times.are when I'm alone with you.~  
  
Warrick grinned, snuck up to his friend, and joined in the singing, a patently false falsetto filling the room, "When I'm alone with you, you brighten up the night."  
  
Nick nearly jumped out of his skin. "Jesus, Warrick! Don't sneak up on me like that!" He was blushing furiously, and Warrick started laughing.  
  
"Blushing, Nick? This is gonna be so good. So, mind telling me why you were singing? And why are you sitting there looking like Howdy-Doody on a sugar high?"  
  
Nick shrugged, his skin turning an even deeper red than Warrick would have believed possible. "No reason."  
  
"Really? Why don't I believe you?"  
  
Sara sauntered into the room, and immediately walked over to the coffee machine, looking at the liquid contents dubiously. "Hey Warrick!" She said in greeting. "Anyone know if this is fresh?"  
  
Warrick looked at Sara. Warrick looked at Nick. Warrick looked at Nick looking at Sara. Sara was wearing a red men's knit golf shirt tucked into her jeans. The shirt had a small Texas flag embroidered on the cuff of the left sleeve, and was obviously several sizes too large for her. *No WAY!*  
  
"Sara?" Warrick asked, the innocent tone in his voice belied by the teasing glint in his eyes. "Do you have any idea why Nick was singing 'The Best of Times' when I walked into the lounge?"  
  
Sara didn't look at him as she poured her coffee and stirred some cream. "Nope. Why would I?"  
  
Warrick laughed. God, Sara was a cool customer. "No reason." He sauntered over to her, teasing gently, "Nick's shirt looks mighty nice on you, though."  
  
Sara looked at him coolly, before giving in and flashing him a grin. "Jeez, Warrick. We're trying to be discreet here."  
  
Warrick glanced at Nick, pointedly. "Well, if you don't want anyone else to know about it." he began.  
  
"Know about what?" Catherine breezed into the room, smiling. "You guys keeping secrets, again?" She looked at Nick, who was studiously looking at his hands, before allowing her gaze to travel to Sara and Warrick. "Hey, wait a minute! Sara, is that Nick's shirt?"  
  
Sara didn't respond, but she didn't need too, she just looked at Catherine and gave her a shy tiny smile. Catherine smiled back, even as her stomach sank. She recognized that first-flush-of-romance smile, and knew immediately that Grissom - who was nothing if not observant - would pick it up right away as well.  
  
Sighing, she thought to herself, 'Well, it can't be helped.' Grissom was a grown man, and Catherine had been telling him for years that he needed to open up more; not be so tentative in the relationships he formed with others. Maybe this would be just the kick in the ass he needed. Maybe losing Sara before he had ever told her how he felt would be the best thing that ever happened to him. And maybe pigs would fly. She shook her head - No. Who was she trying to kid? Grissom, although he would try to hide it, would be devastated. It would probably send him even further into his thick Grissom-shell. Catherine felt like crying. All these thoughts flashed through her head as she poured herself a cup of coffee, carefully composing her face, before turning and settling at the table.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Okay, this is what we got," said Brass, as he sauntered into the break room. He had a stack of fax papers in his hand, neatly separated into two files. "Grissom wants you guys to get started on this - see if you can find anything. He'll be down in a little while - he's talking to the coroner who signed the death certificate on Nancy's mother."  
  
"And what is that?" Warrick nodded at the papers Brass held.  
  
"The top stack are medical files. Took a lot of doing, but we finally got access to Emily Elizabeth Watson's medical records - physical, psychiatric - you name it. The sheriff down there pulled a lot of strings for us. He's also got someone going through back-files, to see if Earl's been in any kind of trouble in the past. He's given us full authority to lay charges here against Earl, and he says he'll enforce them when Earl is returned to Michigan - two of his men are arriving tomorrow to escort him back when we're finished with him. This bastard's gonna finally get his.  
  
"The second stack is - uh - files from children's services. Seems that Earl and Becky have been active foster parents over the years. Grissom wants you-" and here he looked at Nick, "-to see if you can track down any of these kids. From what we can tell, it appears they just fell off the face of the earth."  
  
"How many?" Nick's voice was tight, as he reached out for the neatly stapled file.  
  
Brass' expression was grim. "Thirteen."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Catherine knocked on the door to Grissom's office, and smiled when Grissom nodded to the empty seat in front of his desk. Sitting down, she placed the extra cup of coffee she had brought for him to the side of his desk blotter. Grissom was still on the phone.  
  
"You're saying she shot herself in the head? Didn't you think that was rather odd?" Grissom's voice was expressionless, but Catherine could tell by the way he drummed his fingers on his desk top that he was frustrated.  
  
"Uh - huh. But, considering that only a very small percentage of female suicides kill themselves through violent means.." Grissom rolled his eyes at Catherine. "Yes, I understand that, but pills are much more common. Any prints other than hers on the gun?"  
  
Catherine grabbed a pen, and wrote a note to Grissom, who nodded as he read it. "Okay, I see. Did the police ever look at this as a suspicious death? Okay, yes, yes. I know - 30 years as the chief coroner---not expected to remember every body you examine--" Grissom sighed. "No, I'm not humoring you. I'm sorry if it sounded like I was." Catherine smiled at that, and mouthed at Grissom, 'Yes you were.'  
  
Grissom grimaced back. "Listen, you said you could send me the autopsy photos? And the full report, right - we've only got the death certificate here and the front page of the report. Today, right? Okay. Good - here's my email address."  
  
Catherine laughed at Grissom as he hung up the phone and frowned at it. "Would you believe that Earl's prints were on the gun as well, but the police never even questioned that Emily had killed herself?" He sighed, "At least, he can get the autopsy photos and full coroners report to me - he has them scanned into his computer." At Catherine's questioning look, Grissom shrugged. "Seems he does guest lectures at the university every once in a while, and he uses that case as a prime example of self- mutilation."  
  
Sipping his coffee, Grissom leaned back in his chair. "Why aren't you going through the medical records with Sara and Warrick?"  
  
"Thought you'd like a coffee. And, I thought I would warn you ahead of time, Sara is wearing Nick's shirt." Catherine glanced at Grissom surreptitiously, trying to gauge his reaction to this news. Grissom looked at her, annoyed.  
  
"Thanks for sharing. Now, if you don't mind."  
  
"Grissom. Don't do that to me, don't try to pretend that it doesn't bother you."  
  
"What do you want me to do, Catherine? Break down in tears? Beat my chest and lament? I expected this, and I accept it. She's young; he's young."  
  
"If you start talking about pheromones, I'm going to be really pissed off." Catherine interrupted, her voice angry. "I understand that you aren't a 'people person'. I accept that you prefer bugs to people; that you are emotionally withdrawn; that it's hard for you - for whatever reason - to allow yourself to form connections with people that care for you! But this? Why do you refuse-" Catherine sighed loudly, her tirade stopping as quickly as it began. Her voice gentled.  
  
"Grissom, I care about you. I don't know why, but I do. And I can't understand why you won't allow yourself to be happy. Do you know your whole demeanor changes when you're with her? You smile more. You seem more relaxed. You joke. What's so wrong, than, with taking it to the next level. I know you've admitted to yourself that you're in love with her - why can't you admit it to Sara?"  
  
Grissom was looking at his hands. He could handle Catherine's anger, but this gentleness was undoing him. He almost didn't recognize his own voice as he replied, "What if she doesn't love me back?"  
  
"What if she does?" Catherine had walked around to the side of his desk, and squatted down in front of him, her hands reaching out and squeezing his. "You have to judge for yourself, Grissom. What risks are you willing to take? Loving someone is the biggest risk in the world, because they might not love you back. But what if they do? Isn't the potential for pain far outweighed by the potential for happiness? We only have a finite time to enjoy ourselves here on this earth, Grissom. Don't you think it's time you stopped hiding, and started really living?" Standing up, she leaned forward and kissed Grissom softly on the cheek. "If you want to talk, I'll be in the break room reading medical records. With Sara."  
  
_________  
  
Authors note: Thanks for all the reviews - I appreciate them, and they spur me on to write more. I'm playing with a couple of different scenarios in my head right now, so even I don't know what's going to happen! 


	18. SHOT THROUGH THE HEART

XVIII - SHOT THROUGH THE HEART  
  
The silence in the lounge was broken only by the rustling of papers and the occasional sigh of disgust. Nick had talked Greg into letting him use his laptop computer with the remote web set-up, and was sitting next to Sara on the two-seater in the lounge.  
  
He had given Greg the fingerprints that had been included in the file Brass had handed him, and Greg was running them, but Nick was pretty confident that nothing would turn up. He sighed in frustration and anger as he looked at the grainy photographs that had been supplied with the information Brass had given him.  
  
"You okay?" Sara had leaned in closer to him, her head practically on his shoulder.  
  
"Yeah, I suppose." Nick shrugged, rolling his shoulders to relieve some of his tension.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"I'm running the names of the children and their parents through different internet phone books, starting in Michigan. I'm starting with the most recent child and working my way backwards; and I'm focusing for the time being on unusual names. If I can pull up any likely hits, I'll call and see what I can find out. If I'm lucky, I might find someone related."  
  
Nick's dry tone clearly suggested he didn't expect to be lucky. He tapped in another name, and looked at Sara. "It's like these children were disposable. Lost in the shuffle or - hell - who knows? All these files just seem to stop. Where were the case workers for these kids? The reports from the home visitations? It's like once they were given over to Earl, they cease to exist."  
  
Sara picked up one of the photos Nick had arrayed across his lap. "Fasat Ayad - 8 years old, placed with Earl and Becky in 1997. Checked her yet?"  
  
Nick grunted. "Yeah. Couldn't pull her mother or father, but managed to find 3 numbers, last name Ayad, in Michigan."  
  
Warrick's voice piped up from the table. "When did you say she was sent to Earl?"  
  
Sara glanced at the form in her hand. "1997. Why?"  
  
"Shit. Of course!" Nick stood suddenly, grinning at Warrick. "Why didn't I think of that before?"  
  
"Think of what?" Sara's voice was honestly confused. She looked at Catherine to see if she knew what was going on, but Catherine merely shrugged.  
  
Nick and Warrick looked at each other and grinned. "I have one word for you, Sara," Warrick teased. "Symbiotics!"  
  
Sara laughed. "C'mon, I'm lost here. Maybe it's lack of sleep -" Sara blushed as Catherine started giggling. "I mean - oh - you know what I mean!"  
  
"Yeah, no need to elaborate." Warrick snickered, grinning at her. "Think, Sara. 1997 - that was five years ago."  
  
"Thanks for the math lesson, Warrick. I still don't see where this is going."  
  
"Nancy was still living there." Nick supplied, reaching down and squeezing Sara's shoulder. "We should talk to her."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom was studying his computer screen intently. The email he had received from the coroner in Michigan had been - interesting - to say the least. The report itself was fairly standard, although the notes on the supposed 'self-mutilation' would have made Grissom laugh if the accompanying photos weren't so grisly. The coroner obviously had viewed himself as a pop psychologist, and had self-importantly inserted comments about mental disease and the supposed reasons Emily mutilated herself. Grissom wondered what the odds were that the slugs and gun were still floating around somewhere, and then realized they would never have been taken into evidence because Emily's death hadn't been 'suspicious' enough to warrant it. He sighed in disgust.  
  
"That didn't sound good!" Sara's bright voice preceded her into his office. "How's the migraine?"  
  
Grissom didn't want to look at her, so he kept his eyes on his computer screen and tried to read the fairly extensive list of scars the coroner had noted on the body. "Better, thank-you."  
  
Sara walked over and leaned over Grissom's shoulder, reading as she talked. "Nick asked me to let you know we're going to re-interview Nancy - she would have known all the children that Earl and Becky fostered over the years. We're hoping she can point us in the right direction."  
  
She was so close; Grissom could feel the heat of her body burning him through the back of his shirt. Her hair smelled spicier than usual, and Grissom realized that Sara had showered at Nick's house. A hot spurt of agonized awareness enveloped him. Somehow, Sara using Nick's shampoo seemed much more intimate to him than Sara wearing Nick's shirt. He closed his eyes.  
  
Grissom's non-response to Sara's comments didn't seem to bother her. "Who the hell does this guy think he is? A latter-day Freud?" She read off the screen. "subject's ability to mutilate herself reveals her deep-seated need for self-immolation. One can only wonder what demons would drive a young girl to sexually mutilate herself. Perhaps her father didn't love her enough when she was a child, perhaps the onset of adolescence and the changes occurring to her body was too much for her young psyche to absorb." Sara rolled her eyes in disgust. "This guy's a quack."  
  
Grissom grunted in agreement, mentally exhorting himself to think about the case, and not about Sara. Now was not the time, and he was still coming to grips with his discussion with Catherine earlier. "Apparently, he's a guest lecturer at a couple of local colleges and universities. Look at this-" he pointed to the list of scars, "- female circumcision. How anyone could think a woman could do something like that - to herself - is beyond me."  
  
Sara met Grissom's eyes in the reflection of the computer screen. "Anything we can use to prove that Earl killed her?"  
  
"Uh - no, not yet, but I've just started. His prints were found on the gun, so we know he handled it. But he was never tested for powder residue. No one ever questioned his whereabouts because his wife said they had been out, and returned to find Emily dead. The coroner, the police - everyone - just accepted she had killed herself because of the so called 'evidence' in medical records that she had mental problems."  
  
Grissom clicked the mouse on another file, opening up photos from the autopsy. He and Sara studied them silently. "Grissom -" Sara's voice was low, and she reached over his shoulder and pointed at the screen. Out of his peripheral vision, Grissom saw the small Texas flag embroidered on her sleeve and he frowned. "All these scars, and yet her face is flawless. I thought the coroner told you she had been shot in the head, but she shot herself in the heart? And it looks like the bullet tracked downwards. Was she right or left handed?"  
  
Grissom sighed. "Left. And from the look of that wound, the gun wasn't pressed against her chest when the trigger was pulled - no scorch marks, and not clean enough."  
  
"So," Sara interrupted excitedly, "she takes the gun in her left hand, stretches her arms out and up like so," Grissom swiveled slightly in his seat, watching Sara as she reenacted the coroners report, "twists her hands inward and shots herself clean through the heart?"  
  
She smiled at Grissom. Grissom smiled back. "I don't think so."  
  
__________  
  
Author's note: Just to let you all know, Earl will be making an appearance in the next chapter. 


	19. THE DEATH OF MISS PIGGY

XIX - THE DEATH OF MISS PIGGY  
  
Nancy looked much better than she had yesterday. She had been given a clean prison jumpsuit to wear, and had obviously had a shower. Her hair, which yesterday had been greasy and matted, now shone brightly and hung about her face in soft waves. She still held the picture Grissom had given her tightly in her hands.  
  
Catherine felt her heart twist at the sight of the young girl. Life had treated her badly. "Hi Nancy." she said quietly.  
  
"Hi Ms. Willows. Hi, Mr. Stokes." Nancy smiled shyly at them from behind the bars of her holding cell, before looking back at her picture.  
  
"Nancy, do you feel up to talking to us a bit more about Earl?" Nick's voice was gentle. "We've received some information from Michigan, and we think you might be able to help us."  
  
"Don't like talking about Earl." Nancy whispered softly. "Don't like it all."  
  
"We know you don't Nancy," Catherine's voice was just as gentle as Nick's had been, "but we think you might have information for us that could put Earl away for a long time."  
  
Nancy looked up and smiled again. "Really?" Her voice was tentative, "I can make him go away?"  
  
Nick merely nodded. "We're going to take you back upstairs, and then we'll talk, okay?" He nodded to the police officer standing beside them, watching silently as he unlocked the door to her cell. When he stepped forward to put handcuffs on her, Catherine quickly stopped him.  
  
"Those aren't necessary. She's not a threat." The officer turned to her, one eyebrow raised, but didn't push the issue.  
  
"Fine. But if something happens, it's your responsibility."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom was so pre-occupied with thoughts of Sara and the case they were working on, he didn't see Brass until he'd almost run right in to him.  
  
"Guess what I just found out?" Brass said. "Go on, guess!"  
  
Grissom smiled at his friend. "Are you channeling Greg now, Brass? If I wanted to play guessing games, I'd go talk to him."  
  
Brass smirked. "Grumpy. Our friendly Michigan sheriff just faxed me through Earl's birth certificate, and his wedding certificate."  
  
Grissom looked at Brass, thoughtfully. Brass could almost see the wheels turning in his head. "Okay. Birth certificate and marriage license. I'm listening."  
  
"Here - look at them." Brass handed the documents in question to Grissom. He was enjoying knowing something before Grissom for a change - it didn't happen often, and he wanted to savor it.  
  
Grissom sighed and took the documents. He read the marriage license first. It had been registered over 22 years ago, in Adrian, Michigan. Earl Watson had married Becky Reynolds in a civil ceremony at the court house. Grissom frowned. He looked at the birth certificate, Earl Arnold Watson, born July 27, 1955. "Why didn't any of us see this before?"  
  
Brass shrugged. "I don't think any of us really want to look too closely at the familial relationships here. We just assumed Becky and Emily were sisters, and Earl had married into the family. It was bad enough when we found out Nancy was his daughter - but this? I feel like I'm stuck in a bad country and western song."  
  
Grissom smiled, but his smile held no mirth. "I'm my own Grandpa. But in this case, he's the brother, father, uncle, and grandfather."  
  
"And murderer. Don't forget that."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Nick and Warrick had carefully laid the pictures Brass had given them on the table top, side by side, starting with Rayford Brown, who had been sent to live with the Watson's in 1988, and ending with Fasad Ayat, the last child who had been placed with them in 1997.  
  
Nick said nothing as he placed them, just looked at the grainy black and white pictures, every once in a while shaking his head. He knew, without a doubt, that the names of every single one of these children would be emblazoned in his mind as long as he lived.  
  
Behind the mirror, Nick knew that Grissom and Catherine were waiting patiently for them to start. Sara was talking to Nancy on the other side of the room. He smiled at the sound of their soft murmurs, Sara's gentle agreement with Nancy as she talked about how beautiful Timmy was. Finally finished his task, he interrupted them.  
  
"Nancy - would you mind coming here and looking at these?" He stepped to the side, carefully watching her as she moved towards him.  
  
Her eyes glanced at the photos, and quickly shot to his, her face a mask of pain. "I can't. I can't do it."  
  
Warrick, who up until this point had been silent, offered his support. "You can do it Nancy."  
  
Nancy looked at him, biting her lip uncertainly. "I'm afraid. I can still hear them screaming." She trailed her fingers along the table, picking up a grainy photo of a small dark-haired girl. "Hi Samantha," she crooned, looking at the image in her hand. She looked at Warrick again, tears in her eyes.  
  
"She was like my sister." Her voice was soft, as she sighed. "Earl used her to control me. He used all of them to control me. If I did something really bad; if I argued with him; if I fought with him when he -" she stopped, shaking her head. "He would hurt them. He would hurt me, but he would hurt them more."  
  
She put Samantha's picture down, and picked up one of a little boy. "This is Andy. He was a lot of fun. When Earl was cutting of my - my - left breast, Andy tried to save me. Earl stabbed him."  
  
She was visibly shaking now, tears streaming down her face. "Why would Andy do that? Why would he try to save me? I screamed. I screamed and screamed and screamed, and Earl just laughed. He left me locked in the room with Andy for two days before he took him away and buried him."  
  
Nancy's voice sounded odd and hollow, her eyes were glassy and unfocused. "He threw them all away."  
  
"Do you know where he took them, Nancy. We need to find them; they deserve to be found." Nick's voice was shaky as he spoke to Nancy. Sara looked at him, concern for Nick and horror at what Nancy was saying warring for dominance in her eyes. Without conscious thought, she walked over to Nick and gripped his hand.  
  
"They're in the old well. They're all in the well." Nancy traced her fingers over the photos, her expression far away. "Doug was so scared. Emily - she just wanted her mommy. Audra, Julie, Emily. I tried not to love them because I knew. I knew if I loved them, he would use them to hurt me. And I was right. I loved them and they are all dead. He killed them all." She stopped, picking up the picture of Fayad. "Except Fayad. She was so tiny. So helpless. I set her free the day after Earl brought her home. Earl didn't bring anymore children home after that."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Behind the one-way mirror Grissom leaned forward and rested his head on the glass, hands tightly clenched around the small sill. His entire body was tight with controlled rage. Catherine stood off to the side, tears streaming down her face.  
  
Grissom looked into the interview room. His team - his CSI's - were standing there in shock. Warrick looked like he had been kicked in the stomach and Sara had thrown her arms around Nick's waist and had her head hidden in his chest. Both were shaking.  
  
Gasping with emotion, Grissom violently pushed himself away from the sill he had been gripping, and spun out of the room. He barely had time to register the surprised look on Catherine's face as he pushed by her, and out into the hallway, breaking into a dead run to his office.  
  
He wanted to kill someone. He wanted to kill Earl. Grabbing the first thing in his office he could put his hand on, he focused all his anger and pain and threw it with all his might against the far wall.  
  
The sharp sound of shattering glass, followed by the acrid scent of embalming fluid filled his office. As quickly as Grissom's rage had arrived it dissipated, and he weakly slid to the floor, back against his desk.  
  
He was just sitting there, staring at nothing, when Catherine rushed into his office, her face a mask of concern.  
  
"What the hell was that!" she asked.  
  
Grissom looked up at her and smiled sadly. "I think I just killed Miss Piggy."  
  
_____  
  
Author's note: Okay, I know I said Earl would be making an appearance in this chapter, but I lied. Sorry - he is definitely in the next one though - I promise! 


	20. EARL IS IN THE BUILDING

XX - EARL IS IN THE BUILDING  
  
It was 3:45 pm. Nick knew this because he kept looking at his watch. In 15 minutes or so, Brass would be escorting Earl and his wife into the building, and Nick had never felt so sick in his whole entire life.  
  
Just over 30 minutes earlier, Nancy had been escorted by Sara and Warrick into a second smaller interrogation room, just in case they needed to ask her to confirm anything. She was sitting there with O'Reilly now, lost in her own little world of make-believe and denial.  
  
Nick grimaced. He honestly did not know what to feel about Nancy. Normally, he would view the murderer of a little child as a piece of dirt, lower than scum, not worthy of the oxygen it took to keep them alive, but he couldn't feel this way about Nancy. There was something about her that was so fragile. Nick closed his eyes and sighed again.  
  
Nancy reminded him of a mourning dove he had once found as a little boy. It had been shot through the wing with a bb pellet and he had found it, fluttering and lame, on the side of the road. He remembered how gently he had picked it up, crooning softly as he wrapped it in his sweater before running home to show his mother. He had wanted so hard for that dove to be whole and fly again, but it never had. Despite his best intentions, it had died within two days. He remembered crying in his mother's arms, asking her how God could let something so beautiful be hurt, and his mother had replied in her soft Texan drawl that beautiful things were hurt every day, and that the dove wasn't suffering anymore.  
  
Nancy was like his dove, broken and lame, irrevocably damaged by the evil that men do every day. In her mind, killing Timmy and Fayad had been a perfectly logical thing to do - she had honestly thought she was freeing them from Earl.  
  
Warrick had been great with Nancy, patient and understanding, asking her questions about the children, how they had died. Nick had admired him for it. He and Sara had been so shaken by Nancy's revelations, they could hardly think. Nancy had told them her Aunt Becky was the sister of the area's regional director for Children's Services, and that's why no flags were ever raised when these kids went missing. Earl was always very careful to take children where parental rights had been rescinded, and with the amount of needy children flooding the system, it was easy for them to slip through the cracks.  
  
Whenever a child was killed, Becky would simply call her sister and get another one. No one asked questions, and no one did home visits. Brass had called Davis, the sheriff in Michigan, told him where to find the missing children, and told him about Becky's sister. Hopefully, arrests were being made this second.  
  
Obviously Becky Reynolds had been very involved in procuring children for her husband to abuse, torture and murder. Nancy said Becky had also been abused by Earl and had the scars to prove it. She said Becky was so scared of Earl, she did everything he told her too. And if that meant providing kids for Earl to kill, so be it.  
  
When they had finally finished the interview, Nancy had been moved down the hall, and Nick had found himself crying in Sara's arms for the second time in two days.  
  
* * * * *  
  
It was 3:50 pm. Grissom knew this, because he kept looking at his watch. In 10 minutes or so, Brass would be escorting Earl and his wife into the building, and Grissom - for the first time in his life - had no idea how he was going to react.  
  
He smiled as he remembered the look on Catherine's face as she had surveyed the damage he had caused his office after Nancy's revelations. She had taken in the shattered glass, the blue stain the embalming fluid had left on the wall and the pig fetus on the floor, and merely raised an eyebrow at him. "Feel better?"  
  
Oddly enough he had felt better, and when Catherine had gingerly stepped over the glass shards, nudging Miss Piggy out of the way with the toe of her high-heeled shoe before sliding down to sit beside him on the floor, he had admitted as much.  
  
She had nudged him in the ribs with her elbow, an arch little smile on her lips, as she nodded at a new specimen he had recently added to his office - a large American Bullfrog with four back legs, perfectly preserved and floating in a jar on his shelving unit. "Sure you don't want to throw Kermit too? I wouldn't mind."  
  
Grissom, who rarely smiled, had broken into great bellowing peals of laughter, and he and Catherine had tried to clean up the mess. Now, forty minutes later, despite his anxiety about this case and the entire situation with Earl, Grissom was - inexplicably - happy.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Sara was emotionally drained. Standing at the vending machine, she realized she didn't have the energy or the desire to actually feed it quarters until it gave her food. She wished she was back at her place with Nick, listening to music, cooking breakfast - dancing. She grinned at that last thought, even as she felt a slow blush creep up her neck. Damn! This sudden propensity for blushing, even when no one else was around to see it, was getting tedious.  
  
Pumping quarters into the machine, she quickly retrieved a roast beef sandwich for Nick and an egg-salad sandwich for herself, before heading back towards the lounge, where Nick was waiting. Glancing at her watch, she realized it was 3:55 - Brass should be arriving with Earl and Becky any minute.  
  
Rushing down the hallway, she stopped and stuck her head into Grissom's office to see if he was aware of the time. As she had suspected, Grissom was studying the case file.  
  
"No rest for the weary, eh?" She commented, as she stepped into the room.  
  
Grissom looked up at her question, shaking his head. "Actually, I'm trying to keep myself occupied until Brass arrives with our special guest." He looked at his watch. "Only five more minutes or so to go."  
  
Sara smiled. "Just wanted to make sure you weren't absorbed in Entomology Weekly." She teased, glancing around his office. "Hey, where's the little piggy?"  
  
"Gone to market?" Catherine responded, sticking her head in the doorway. "Warrick's down in the lounge with Nicky, who's complaining about dying of starvation." Catherine grinned at Sara, looking pointedly at the sandwiches in her hands. "Brass called me on his cell - he's just parking. Time to put on our game faces, everyone. Earl is in the building."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Earl Watson was not a big man, but he was not small either. Standing roughly 5'10", and weighing about 180 lbs., his upper body was muscular. He was wearing a pair of perfectly creased casual pants and a collarless black cashmere knit shirt. His hair was a dirty blond, graying at the sides, and cut army short. Reaching forward and shake Grissom's hand, he reminded Grissom of his next door neighbor. Grissom, his face carefully school to hide his revulsion, tried not to shudder.  
  
"Mr. Watson. Thank you so much for coming all the way out here." He turned, extending his hand to Becky, who avoided looking at anything other than her shoes. Grissom's hand hung there, awkwardly in mid-air, before lowering to his side.  
  
"Pardon my wife, Mr. Grissom." Earl said. "She's distraught, and hasn't been herself since we found out about Timmy." Earl's voice was deep, and well-modulated. He smiled at Grissom as he shrugged his shoulders. Grissom noted the smile didn't reach his eyes.  
  
"Perfectly understandable, Mr. Watson." Catherine's glance flicked to Earl, before landing on Nancy. Although attractive and well-groomed, she appeared to be nothing more than a shadow.  
  
Earl ignored her, instead addressing Grissom in the manner that implied they were the last two bastions of masculinity in a feminine world run amuck. "You know how emotional the ladies can get. If we didn't need them for survival of the species." he shrugged.  
  
Catherine felt her teeth clench, and the angry heat that had been pooling in her stomach for the last two days started bubbling. Grissom felt her tense-up beside him, and shot her a warning glance.  
  
"Why don't you follow me, Mr. Watson, Mrs. Watson." Grissom turned and started walking down the hallway. "We just have a few formalities, papers to sign, that sort of thing. We'll be much more comfortable in our interview room."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Looking at Earl from behind the one way mirror, Sara sighed in disgust. "He looks so - normal. I don't know why that surprises me."  
  
Earl was asking Grissom about the murder, pumping him for details on how Timmy had died, how he had been found.  
  
"Bastards loving this." Nick remarked, flicking his hand in Earl's direction. "He's getting a rush from this. Look at him, he's practically on the edge of his seat!" His voice was seething with rage.  
  
"Easy Nick." Warrick warned. "Remember what Grissom said - we have to stay cool. We know he's a bastard, but he doesn't know we know. And it's going to be worth it when he realizes he's caught. Grissom's just reeling him in here."  
  
Nick smiled tightly, and took a deep breath. "I know. Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything stupid." His gaze traveled to Becky, dismissively. "I don't even think she's paying attention. She hasn't said one word since they arrived." 


	21. EARL JAM

XXI - EARL JAM  
  
"Do you have any children, Earl?" Grissom asked. He had decided to establish the upper hand quickly once in the interview room and the more polite address of Mr. Watson was the first thing to go.  
  
At his question, Earl stopped talking about identifying Timmy's body, and sat back in his chair. Masking his face with an appropriate mixture of regret and acceptance, he replied. "Sadly, no. Becky is unable to bare children, and so I have never been blessed with one of my own. That's why I fought so hard for Timmy. His mother - my niece -" Earl shook his head sadly. "Well, she's a little crazy. Unfortunately, it runs in the family. I've been looking after Timmy practically since the day he was born."  
  
Grissom nodded, glancing at Catherine. She raised her eyebrow at Grissom, and Grissom knew she had picked up on Earl's odd way of relating everything to himself. 'I have never been blessed - that's why I fought - I've been looking after Timmy.'  
  
"Were you aware that Timmy had been sexually assaulted prior to his death?" Grissom's voice was soft, his eyes penetrating, as he waited for Earl's response. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Becky flinch slightly, but still she said nothing.  
  
"You mean Nancy?" Earl's voice was patently incredulous, and he shook his head sadly as he let his voice trail off. "I hope she burns in hell."  
  
"Well, someone will, that's for sure." Grissom's voice was dry, and he looked towards the mirror on the wall. "You guys listening to this?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
In the other room, Brass muttered. "There's our cue. Okay, let's see if we can break him."  
  
Nick clenched the various case files tightly in his hands, the look on his face his face grim. "I'm going to enjoy this," he muttered, as he headed towards the door, followed closely by Sara and Warrick. "I'm really going to enjoy this. It seems Earl is in quite a jam."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Who are you talking to?" Earl's voice suddenly hardened, and he looked at the mirror. "You have people watching me behind that thing?" He pushed himself angrily away from the table, his hands clenched in tight fists. "What gives you the right to -"  
  
"Sit down, Earl!" Grissom's voice was clipped. "We're in charge here." He glanced over to the door as his team walked in, arraying themselves across the front of the table in a neat row. "Here are my friends now."  
  
Earl glanced edgily at the other CSI's; his eyes stuck on Nick, who was glaring at him with an oddly cheerful expression on his face.  
  
"What are you looking at?" he had snarled at him. Nick smiled.  
  
"Nothing. Nothing at all."  
  
Earl turned to Grissom angrily. "Are you going to let him talk to me like that? I'm the victim here! My nephew was murdered by my niece! He was sexually abused by -"  
  
"You. And he's not your nephew. He's your son." Nick interrupted, stepping forward until he was slightly behind and between Earl and Becky. He reached into the case file and pulled a sheet of paper, dropping it on the table.  
  
Earl sank to his seat. His hands were tightly clenched to his sides. "I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered.  
  
"You wouldn't believe all the interesting facts we can discover about a person with just a little bit of DNA, Earl. Didn't your mother ever tell you that smoking was bad for you?" Grissom's voice was cool, and he indicated the DNA results in front of Earl. "DNA never lies."  
  
Earl looked at the results, before glaring at Grissom. "This will never hold up - I didn't consent to a DNA test. A lawyer will have a field day with this."  
  
"I don't think so." Again, Nick's voice interrupted. "You left your cigarette butts in Brass' car, as garbage. If you had wanted to, you could have taken them with you, and we wouldn't have your DNA, but since you willingly left it -" His voice trailed off, and he smiled again. "Do you know what they do to child molester's in jail, Earl?"  
  
Nick's voice was hard, his grin feral. Grissom saw Sara step forward, lightly touching him on the arm. Her simple gesture was easy to read. 'Tone it down, Nick. Relax.'  
  
Catherine, sitting to Grissom's right, interjected thoughtfully. "Child molesters are not very popular. As a matter of fact, only child murderers are treated worse." She shot a glance at Earl. "It's a good thing you're not a murderer, isn't it Earl?"  
  
Earl didn't ignore her this time. Shooting her a look of pure fury, he tried to lunge across the table at her. Nick quickly put his hands on his shoulders, shoving him - hard - back into his seat. "I thought Grissom told you to SIT DOWN!"  
  
The room was silent. Earl, shaking in his chair, looked at the tight faces CSI's surrounding him. "I didn't kill anybody!" he whined.  
  
Nick pulled out the coroner photos of Emily Watson. "You killed your sister, Emily, didn't you Earl. Your sister - Nancy's mother. You shot her, and we can prove it."  
  
"She killed herself. Even the police said so - she had problems!"  
  
"Her problem was you, Earl." Grissom's voice was cold. "How long did you torture your sister before you decided to kill her? I've seen the coroners' photos. Her scars are bad. It looks like you tortured her quite a bit - almost as much as you tortured your daughter Nancy."  
  
"And what about little Andy McDonald, Earl. Didn't you kill him? Or Julie? Or Emily? Rayford Brown?" With each name, Nick dropped a new photo on the table in front of Earl. "Sheriff Davis is probably searching the old well at your place right now. Wonder what he's going to find there?"  
  
Earl refused to look at Nick. His hands were clenched in tight fists, and a fine sheen of sweat misting his brow. "I demand to see a lawyer."  
  
Becky Watson, who had not said one word since they had walked into the police station, was staring intensely at Emily's autopsy photos. Her gaze moved from them to the pictures of the children. Everyone was so focused on Earl, they had almost forgotten she was even in the room. She felt like she was moving through a force-field, and everything was happening in slow motion. She heard the voices, hard and accusing, but muted - almost as if people were talking with mouths stuffed full of cotton.  
  
The young man who had tossed the pictures on the table was beside her, his back to her, facing Earl. She recognized his tenseness and anger. He was coiled so tightly, Becky was surprised he didn't explode. She was scared. She was so scared. She wanted to tell him to stop making Earl angry, because Earl would take it out on her when they left, but her tongue refused to work. She looked at the pictures again. Earl would hurt her like he had hurt Emily and Nancy. She didn't want anymore scars. With an urgent energy, faster than she would have imagined she could move, she lunged at Nick, ripping the gun from his holster.  
  
"STOP LYING EARL!" she screamed, as she pointed the gun at him and released the trigger.  
  
________  
  
Author's note: This might be the last chapter for a while - family vacation time starts tomorrow, and we'll be gone for the week. If I have an opportunity between day trips, I'll post more - that is, if you all want me to. 


	22. SUSPENDED

XXII - SUSPENDED  
  
Nick was sitting in the break room. His hands were hanging between his knees, and he was staring at the door blankly. Outside in the hallway, he heard the murmuring of voices, but no one was speaking loudly enough for him to actually hear an entire conversation. Every once in a while he would catch a word - like 'shot' - or a phrase - like 'grabbed Nick's gun' - rising up out of the general hum, before disappearing into nothingness again.  
  
Earl was dead.  
  
Earl was dead, and Becky had shot him with Nick's gun. And Nick's gun was now in an evidence bag somewhere. And Earl was in a body bag - funny how that worked. Nick's smile was grim.  
  
He wondered idly if any of the photos of the missing children had been hit by splatter. He supposed it didn't really matter if they had been, as they were only blown up faxes anyway and easily replaced, but still he knew that Grissom didn't like stains on his case files, whether it was coffee or blood.  
  
He looked at his legs, idly picking at one of the myriad of blood spots that covered them. Pick. Pick. Pick. He knew he would never wear these pants again. He looked at his shoes - a nice pair of old style Converse high tops - and saw splatter that vaguely resembled a butterfly. Rorschach would be thrilled.  
  
He looked at his legs again. Pick. Pick. Pick.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Just down the hallway, Sara was pacing. She still couldn't believe Earl was dead. One minute he had been demanding a lawyer, and the next minute the back of his head was gone, and brain matter and blood was everywhere. Inside the room where Earl had been shot, she saw Grissom and Brass conversing tensely with Mobley, as Ecklie's team worked around them. She could just imagine what they were discussing.  
  
Nick was going to be suspended. Internal Affairs would be called in to investigate and see if his actions had been negligent, and until the investigation was over he wouldn't be allowed to work. Sara frowned. She knew that Nick would be cleared - it was, after all, policy they wear their guns while working, but just the thought that he may be blamed for this would tear him apart.  
  
Sara glanced down the hallway towards the lounge room. Mobley had sent Nick in there the minute Nick finished giving his statement, and had posted O'Reilly just outside the door. No one was allowed in, and no one was allowed out. She could just imagine what type of hell Nicky was going through right now. He shouldn't be by himself.  
  
To her left, Warrick was just finishing giving his statement to Officer Bowdly and Catherine was talking to the same officer who had taken Nick's statement earlier.  
  
Sara looked at Grissom again. He was yelling something at Mobley, right up in his face. Behind him, Brass didn't look to happy. Mobley was an ass. Ecklie had given up all pretense of work, and watched the men with a look of avid glee in his eyes. He was repulsive.  
  
Sara looked towards the lounge again. 'Nick,' she thought, 'Nick.'  
  
* * * * *  
  
"You can question us until hell freezes over, and you will get the same story from everyone! No one could have stopped her." Grissom's voice was loud, his expression angry, as he looked at Mobley.  
  
"What was he doing with a gun in there?" Mobley responded, just as angry.  
  
"Do you even READ the memorandums? Are you familiar with LVPD policy? He was at work. Remember the mandate? We all had our guns on." Grissom was chest to chest with Mobley, shaking with barely suppressed fury.  
  
"Brass, you better get him under control, or young Mr. Stokes won't be the only one suspended tonight, you understand me?" Mobley's glance speared Brass, before returning to Grissom. "This is a fucking media nightmare, Grissom! You have no idea how much damage control we'll need! If there is even the slightest doubt in the minds of our Internal Affairs people that Nick could have prevented this, I'll have his job and bring him up on charges of negligence causing death! Do you understand me? Now, are you going to tell him, or will I?"  
  
Brass had grabbed Grissom's arm, and was pulling him back. "We understand perfectly, Mobley. But you have your statements from Gil's team, all highly trained professionals I might add. You have my statement. You know we were video taping the interview for Sheriff Davis to use for the court case in Michigan. Internal Affairs should be able to address this pretty quickly. You know as well as I do it's shut and dry." Brass glared at Mobley as Grissom shook off his arm and headed for the doorway. "If you drag this out one hour longer than you need to, I'll make your life a living hell. You're not the only one with friends in high places."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Catherine and Warwick were standing with Sara when Grissom stormed out of the room. He quickly walked over to them, Brass on his heals. Looking at O'Reilly standing in the doorway of the lounge, he sighed angrily.  
  
"Nick still in there?"  
  
Warrick nodded. "Mobley told O'Reilly not to let anyone in to talk to him." His tone expressed his disgust.  
  
"I hate Mobley with the red-hot passion of a thousand burning suns!" Sara muttered. "He's such a prick."  
  
"Where's Becky?"  
  
"She's been taken to the hospital - she's suffering from shock. Mobley sent a couple of escorts with her. She's been arrested." Catherine responded to Grissom's, smiling slightly at Sara's last statement. "So, what did Mobley say about Nick?"  
  
Grissom sighed. "Suspension. Internal Affairs. You know, the usual. I'm going to go tell him now, and send him home." He looked at his watch. "I can't believe it's only 6:30 - 1 ½ hours until I have to go to work." Catherine and Warrick groaned. "Sara, you want to come with me when I talk to Nick?"  
  
"You couldn't keep me away, Grissom," she replied. "I'm taking the night off too. Nick is going to need me." She turned to look at Catherine and Warrick as she followed Grissom and Brass down the hall. "I'll call you guys later and let you know how he's doing."  
  
* * * * *  
  
O'Reilly didn't put up an argument as the three of them stepped into the lounge. Nick stood immediately upon seeing them, walking over to Sara and looking at her thoroughly before pulling her into a tight embrace. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Are you okay?" she replied.  
  
"I'm better, now that you're here." Nick turned to Grissom. "Guess I'm suspended."  
  
Grissom nodded. "Guess you are. Sorry Nick."  
  
"It won't be for long, Nick. One, two days - at the most." Brass added. "Internal Affairs will get this closed quickly." He reached out, and squeezed Nick's arm. "It wasn't your fault, you know."  
  
Nick nodded, but didn't look convinced. "I'm sorry Grissom. If I'd have thought Becky would do something like that - "  
  
"You weren't the only one in there with a gun, Nick. You were just the closest. Now go home. I'll keep you informed."  
  
Sara grabbed Nick's hand, looking at Grissom and Brass. "Listen, come to my house for breakfast tomorrow. Bring Catherine and Warrick. I'll make crepes, and we can all talk then."  
  
"You're coming with me?" Nick smiled at her.  
  
"No." Sara replied. "You're coming with me."  
  
As they walked out the door, Nick turned back to Grissom and Brass. "Don't worry - when she says 'I'll make crepes' she really means me. Sara's only allowed to set the table."  
  
______  
  
Author's note: I didn't think I would be working on this story anymore today, but here I am, and here it is. Please let me know what you think. I appreciate all reviews! 


	23. RELATIONSHIPS

XXIII - RELATIONSHIPS  
  
"That was good of you, to let Sara go with Nick." Grissom raised his head from the paperwork he was filling out and returned Catherine's soft smile as she walked into his office and sat down. The hallway and lab was still flush with officers and CSI dayshift, and Grissom had escaped at his first opportunity. He was hoping if he lay low enough Ecklie would leave him alone. He could just imagine what the day shift supervisor thought of this.  
  
"He needed to have someone with him." Grissom shrugged. "And you and I both know, Sara's the only one he would have wanted." He looked down at the form he had been filling out, and sighed in disgust. "I can't believe Earl is dead."  
  
Catherine shrugged. "I'm trying not to think about it, myself. I will never forget the look on his face the split second before Becky shot him. He totally realized what was happening, you know that? And instead of looking scared, he looked angry! Angry that Becky would actually yell and him and point a gun at him. I don't think he expected her to shoot him."  
  
"I don't think anyone did." Grissom's tone was dry. "How's Warrick?"  
  
"He's doing okay. He's gone down to holding to talk to Nancy. Would you believe we forgot she was in the other room with O'Reilly watching her when Earl was shot? Thank God for him! He had the presence of mind to take her back down to holding before Mobley showed up." Catherine sighed. "Do you think Nick will be okay?"  
  
Grissom looked at Catherine, taking off his glasses and cleaning them with his shirt, as he responded. "He'll be fine, Cath. A little the worse for wear, perhaps, but fine. He's a survivor." He put his glasses back on, and studied Catherine intently. She was normally very fair, but tonight she was deathly pale. Her eyes looked slightly bruised and her smile, normally so bright, seemed a little forced. The last day and a half had been hard on everyone.  
  
"You look tired, Catherine. You should see if you can rest a bit. Hopefully, we'll have a really slow night."  
  
"Yeah. I'll tell Warwick to rest too, if he can. Poor guy is on his last legs." Catherine stood slowly and stretched, her arms gracefully arching over her head, staring at Grissom intently. "Brass told us we've all been invited to Sara's for breakfast. Are you going to go?"  
  
Grissom shut his eyes and nodded. "Nick needs our support."  
  
"You're a good man, Gil." At the use of his first name, Grissom looked at Catherine and smiled.  
  
"Gil? Since when do you call me Gil?"  
  
"Since today. Since seeing Earl die. We're lucky Becky decided to shoot him, and not any of us." She shuddered at the thought, and smiled at Grissom again. "I'd rather call you Gil now, and tell you to your face how much I admire you, then call you Grissom and maybe miss the chance tomorrow. If Becky had been thinking just a little differently, who knows what would have happened."  
  
* * * * *  
  
The entire drive back to Sara's place, Nick had held her hand firmly. The feel of their entwined fingers was a comfort to him, anchoring his thoughts firmly with her as he drove, keeping him in the 'here and now' and not the 'there and then.' Instead of sitting on the passenger side of his truck, Sara had instead slid into the middle of it, her side firmly plastered against his. Nick could feel her thumb rubbing lightly up and down the pad of his thumb.  
  
When they arrived at her apartment, Sara followed Nick, sliding across the seat to get out on his side, unwilling to break contact with him for even a few seconds. Standing in the parking lot at her apartment, driver's side door wide open, Nick turned and kissed her. The cab of the truck was the perfect height, and Sara slid willingly into him, legs on either side of his waist, and finally let go of his hand to wrap her arms around his neck in a tight embrace.  
  
The kiss was both bittersweet and emotionally charged, and Nick had a hard time pulling away from her. Finally he did, resting his forehead against hers and looking deep into her eyes. They were brimming with unshed tears.  
  
Nick realized they hadn't said a word to each other since leaving the station. "Sara, honey - don't cry." Nick's gentle words sent Sara over the edge. The tears started flowing freely. But instead of trying to hide them, as she normally would have, she just let them fall.  
  
"She could have killed you, Nicky! She could have killed you and not Earl." Her voice, normally so sure, was soft and broken. Nick cupped her face gently with his hands, wiping her tears with his thumbs, kissing her eyelids.  
  
"But she didn't." His reply was firm, and he leaned in and kissed her again. "She didn't, and I'm here with you, and there's no place else I'd rather be - except maybe in your apartment," he nodded as one of Sara's neighbors walked by his truck, looking at them curiously. "Away from all these prying eyes."  
  
Sara giggled wetly, "Okay, cowboy. Let's go inside."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"First things first." Sara said, as she stepped into her apartment. "We have to get you out of those clothes."  
  
Nick looked at Sara, one eyebrow raised, and a wicked grin on his face. "Why, Sara! I thought you'd never ask!"  
  
Sara blushed and laughed at the same time. "You're covered in blood, Nick!"  
  
Nick's teasing mood evaporated. "Yeah, I know." Nick quickly grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head dropping it by his shoes, which he was pushing off at the same time.  
  
"Nicky!" Sara's voice was surprised. "You didn't tell me you'd been hurt!"  
  
A big white sterile gauze was taped to his side, just under his ribs. Along the edges of the bandage the dark purple and black mottling of an angry bruise could be seen. Sara stepped forward and gently traced a finger around the edge of it.  
  
"It's nothing. The bullet just grazed me. The paramedics looked at it when you were being interviewed." He shut his eyes and groaned as Sara's fingers swept above the gauze, over his ribcage.  
  
"I'm sorry. Did that hurt?" Sara pulled her hand away, before reaching out and tentatively touching his side again.  
  
Nick looked at her. "No. Definitely didn't hurt, Sara." Her other hand had joined the first, fingers running down his sides and along his ribcage. Nick closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. His heart was pounding.  
  
"Sara -" his voice was tight with barely controlled need "- you're playing with fire."  
  
Sara smiled, and leaned forward, kissing his collarbone before tilting her head upwards and replying. "I know I am Nick. Didn't I tell you I was a closet pyromaniac?"  
  
"Don't you want me to shower first?" His mouth was inches away from hers, his hands gripping her hips as he pulled her closer to him. He could feel her hands on the buckle of his belt, and groaned again as Sara's slim fingers dipped just under the waist line of his jeans.  
  
"Why shower now, when we can shower together, later?" Sara's voice was soft. "I just want to be with you, Nick."  
  
With her soft words, Nick's tenuous grip on control failed. 


	24. CONFESSIONS

XXIV - CONFESSIONS  
  
"Hey, Warrick! It's Sara."  
  
"Sara! What's up? How's Nick? Why are you whispering?" Warrick's voice through the phone was surprisingly loud. Sara glanced anxiously at Nick, who was sleeping fitfully, and stepped into her hallway.  
  
"I'm trying not to wake Nick up. He's sleeping. He's doing okay, I suppose." Sara sighed. "Anything interesting happening there?"  
  
"No. Which is a good thing. I don't think we could handle a busy night. Grissom's with Doc Robbins - Earl's autopsy." He chuckled dryly. "I opted out of that one. Catherine's around here somewhere. Brass talked to Sheriff Davis in Michigan, told him what happened. They found the bodies where Nancy told us they were. There are actually more than 13 skulls there, so the theory is he got some missing kids or runaways." Warrick sighed. "Thankfully, not something we'll have to worry about."  
  
Sara sighed. "Well, that's good news, I suppose. Did they arrest the sister?" At Warrick's confirming grunt, she continued. "Listen, War. Could you do me a favor? You're coming for breakfast, right? Yeah. Could you grab some clothes for Nick? The ones he was wearing here are covered in blood, and - What? Yeah - was wearing. That's what I said." Sara was red. "NO! I am not blushing! What? No, I don't know the combination to his locker. Wal-Mart? Okay - take Greg with you and let him chose the shirt - Nick needs a laugh. Size? I don't know - 36 waist, maybe? If they're too big he can wear a belt. Yeah - thanks, Warrick! And make sure you bring Greg for breakfast, too. Bye."  
  
She shook her head ruefully as she hung up, and padded down the hallway into her living room. It was only 10:30 pm, and she was wired. She flipped on her TV, quickly scanned the channels for an interesting program, and switched it off in disgust. Nothing. Glancing around the living room, she noticed Nick's shirt still lying in a heap on the floor, walked over and picked it up. She shuddered when her eyes spotted the scorch marks and hole from the bullet. So close! She folded the shirt neatly, and placed it back on top of the shoes.  
  
Padding back down the hallway, she stuck her head in the bedroom hopefully. Nick was still sleeping; his face peaceful, his lips soft. He had twisted the sheets low around his torso, and Sara blushed even as she admired his form. Slipping as quietly as she could into her room, she leaned over and visually inspected the gauze patch on his side, before sliding her gaze up to his face again. Nick was looking at her.  
  
"It's alright you know." His voice was low. "You don't need to worry about it Sara. I've been hurt worse." Nick's eyes were dark, his tone dry. He twisted to his side. "I've kept a spot warm for you."  
  
Sara smiled as she slid in beside him, facing him. "Will you do something for me, Nicky?"  
  
Nick had reached out, and was idly whirling a strand of her hair around his finger. He grinned at her question. "I thought I already did it," he teased. His grin got wider as Sara reddened. "I never pegged you as a blusher, Sara Sidle. It's cute."  
  
She grimaced at him. "I'm not blushing, I'm just hot!" At Nick's laughing confirmation, Sara realized she had just opened herself up again. She sighed, smiling in spite of herself. "Until a couple of days ago, I would have never said anything that obvious! I just wanted to know - this - us - how long have you been thinking about it?"  
  
Nick sobered up, suddenly serious. "Honestly?" At Sara's nod, he continued. "When did you join us?"  
  
Sara rolled her eyes at him. "I'm serious, Nicky!"  
  
"So am I. I've thought about you, and me, and us since the first time I saw you."  
  
"But I - but you - you always treated me like a good buddy, or a sister! Why didn't you do anything or say anything?"  
  
"I thought maybe you and Grissom -" he paused, looking at her intently. "I thought maybe you two had a thing going."  
  
"Grissom and I? Well, maybe I was interested, but the feeling wasn't mutual." Sara didn't look at Nick as she said this, and her voice was very soft.  
  
Nick weighed his words carefully. "He was interested Sara. He just didn't know what to do about it. That's why I stayed away, though."  
  
"And now?"  
  
"Now? You mean, is he still interested now?" Nick's voice had sharpened, and he extracted his fingers from Sara's hair, sitting up angrily and throwing his legs over the side. "You're in bed with me, and you're asking me if Grissom might be still interested in you? Is that where this conversation is headed, Sara?"  
  
Sara sat up, touching Nick on the shoulder tentatively. He jerked away from her. "Nick. Nicky - look at me." Sara's voice was soft and insistent. "I meant - if you stayed away for two years because of Grissom - what made you change your mind?"  
  
"I couldn't do it anymore! Damn it, Sara! I just couldn't do it." He felt Sara's hand on his back, and turned towards her, his anger evaporating. "You make me happy. You make me want things I never thought I would ever want. I am aware of you from the minute you walk into the room until the minute you leave, and I was tired of pretending. I didn't want to be just your friend anymore. I wanted to be your lover; your partner in more than just work. I wanted to see if the feelings I had for you were real - and you know what? They are. And I might have just made a big mistake telling you about Grissom, because I have no idea what you'll do. I know how I feel about you, but I don't know what you feel about me. This has all happened rather quickly. Maybe you'll decide it was the stress, or the case, or who knows what? Maybe -"  
  
"You talk too much." Sara interrupted him. "I'm not going to deny that I have been - interested - in Grissom. And until just recently, I would never have even imagined that we would ever be here, like this. But you know what, Nicky? Now that I'm here, I don't want to be anywhere else. Grissom is a good friend. He's a fascinating man. But he's not you. You're the one I want."  
  
Nick was now fully facing Sara, hope and caution warring on his face. "And Grissom is-"  
  
Sara smiled tenderly, reaching up and caressing his cheek. "He's my friend, Nick. But you're my future."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom dragged himself tiredly into his office. Earl's autopsy had been fairly standard, but there had been a surprise - Earl had a tattoo across his chest, which, like Timmy's, had read "Broken Boy". Robbins had surmised that the tattoo was well over 30 years old. Grissom shook his head in disgust. Although he would never be able to prove anything, he knew that Earl had been sexually abused as a child. He had wondered about a family that could produce a son like him, and had come to the conclusion the apple hadn't fallen far from the tree.  
  
He looked up in surprise as he caught the subtle scent of Catherine's perfume. She was sitting in his chair, behind his desk, playing solitaire. He sighed.  
  
"That didn't sound good."  
  
"What are you doing, Cath?" Grissom asked her, sinking into a vacant chair.  
  
"Solitaire. Warrick's sleeping in the lounge, and I was bored. You were?"  
  
"Earl's autopsy."  
  
"Yuck."  
  
Grissom studied her. She was concentrating on the cards in front of her, chewing the inside of her lip. He smiled as she made a move.  
  
"What?"  
  
Grissom ignored her question. "I wonder how long Nick will be on suspension."  
  
Catherine shrugged. "Not long, I don't think. How could they keep him away? It wasn't his fault, and no one could have stopped it from happening." She looked at Grissom from under her eye lashes. "Sara called earlier. Talked to Warrick. Nick seems to be doing okay."  
  
"That's good. This case affected everyone, but him worst of all. He'll be happy when I tell him the DA has arranged for Nancy to go to an institution where she'll be looked after. That girl has suffered."  
  
Catherine nodded. "I'm sorry if I was pushing you earlier about telling Sara. I don't think you should, anymore."  
  
Grissom looked at Catherine, surprised. "You don't? Why not?"  
  
"You're a strong man, Gil. Not just physically, but emotionally. You can handle this situation. I don't think Nick could. He needs Sara, right now especially. And, I think Sara needs him."  
  
Grissom pondered her statement. "Would you care to elaborate on that?"  
  
Catherine smiled at him. "You and Sara are like two peas in a pod. You're both intellectual, driven, workaholics. Neither of you have the best people skills. If the two of you got together it would probably work out, but it would be because you're comfortable with each other. There would be no surprises." She looked at him intently, "You see what I'm saying?"  
  
"We wouldn't challenge each other to grow."  
  
"Correct. Nick forces Sara to open herself up emotionally, to allow for different experiences outside of the job. He'll make sure she eats, leaves work when she should, sleeps. If you two got together -"  
  
"We'd never leave the lab." Grissom smiled. "You're right. About everything." At Catherine's surprised expression, Grissom laughed.  
  
"Do you know how good it felt when I threw Miss Piggy today? It was like a damn bursting. I had forgotten how good it is to lose my temper every once in a while. I will never be an overly emotional man, Catherine, but I am going to try opening myself up more - even if it means getting hurt in the process. And I need someone in my life who can do for me what Nick does for Sara." He grinned at her shyly. "Know anyone that could fit the bill?"  
  
________  
  
Author's note: Okay, for all of those wanting a G/C relationship this story merely hints - HINTS - that this will happen. I am working on another story that will pick-up where this one leaves off, and will focus on them. I still have a few chapters to go with this story though. I'll try to get them written and posted over the next week, when we get back from our day trips. SUGGESTIONS? Always welcome! 


	25. BRUCE LEE

XXV - BRUCE LEE  
  
Sara had been in the shower when Warrick and Greg had arrived, and Nick had been forced to answer the door in his boxers, much to Warrick's amusement and Greg's chagrin.  
  
Following Nick genially into the kitchen they chatted and watched with appreciation as he quickly got some coffee perking. Greg had asked Nick if he could go and put some music on, but Sara, walking into the kitchen with a towel over her wet head, had vetoed that idea.  
  
"Touch my stereo and die, Greggo!" She had teased, walking over to him and dropping her wet towel in his lap. "Showers free, Nick."  
  
Nick smiled at her, leaning over and whispering in her ear, "Still gonna wash my back for me?" Sara ignored him and walked over to the cupboard, pulling out mugs before turning to see Warrick grinning at her. "What?"  
  
"Nothing. You're just such a becoming shade of pink right now. I know you normally wear black, but you might want to consider changing your style palette." Sara snorted at him.  
  
"Keep it up, and I'll be the one making breakfast!" she threatened. Handing the mugs to Warrick and Greg, she looked at the plastic Wal-Mart bag at Greg's feet and smiled. "Nick, don't you think you should change before Catherine gets here?"  
  
Warrick grabbed the bag at his feet, and tossed it at him. "Hope these fit!"  
  
"We heard about your clothes. Sara sent us on a mission of mercy." Greg added, smiling as Nick reached into the bag and pulled out a casual button shirt. It was black, with red flames shooting up around the hem, and had a great big picture of Bruce Lee on the front. Sara laughed when she saw it, and Nick grimaced.  
  
"This is the ugliest shirt I've ever seen! You chose it, didn't you Greg?" Nick's teasing tone took the insult out of his words, and he smiled at the young lab tech.  
  
"C'mon man. It's cool - we need to brighten up your wardrobe a bit. Besides, who wouldn't want to wear Bruce Lee?" Greg was grinning, maniacally. His hair stuck out in several directions, making him look like he'd just slid out of bed. "Warrick was with me when we picked it up."  
  
Nick cocked a dubious eyebrow at Warrick. "Couldn't you have reined him in a little bit?"  
  
Warrick laughed. "Could have - didn't want to." He watched as Nick reached into the bag again, and brought out a pair of Diesel jeans, quickly followed by Birkenstock sandals. He laughed again when Nick shot Greg an amused look. "Birkenstock's?"  
  
Greg shrugged amiably. "What? They're comfortable."  
  
Nick shook his head. "I'm going to have my shower now. I appreciate the thought behind the clothes-" he grinned ruefully, "-if not the actual clothes themselves."  
  
* * * * *  
  
Nicky could hear Brass before he even stepped into the kitchen. "So, Sheriff Davis pulled all the info. he could on the Watson family. Seems that Emily and Earl's dad was a tattoo artist - and a successful one at that - he had several shops. He was murdered back in '82 in the main store, but the crime was never solved. Earl's mother supposedly abandoned the family when Earl was 12, but Davis is going to run the dentals on a couple of the unknown skeletons they've found, see if one of them is her. They're also going to run a full search of the lands - they've got a lot of cold cases to choose from. He's hoping they might be able to close some of them based on what they find."  
  
"What did I miss?" he asked, as he stepped into the kitchen. His eyes immediately sought out Sara, who was sitting next to Greg. She looked up as he walked into the kitchen, and grinned when she saw him in his new clothes.  
  
Brass looked over at Nick. "Don't tell me - you borrowed some of Greg's clothes, right?"  
  
Greg pretended to be offended. "Why does everyone question my sartorial choices. And for your information, those are not mine -they're Nick's."  
  
"Yeah. But you and Warrick bought it for me." Everyone laughed. Catherine walked up to him, giving him a hug.  
  
"How are you feeling, Nick?"  
  
"Not bad, all things considered." He looked around the kitchen. "Where's Grissom?"  
  
"He'll be here. He had an errand to run." Catherine turned to smile at Sara. "Mind if I go put on some music?"  
  
"Go ahead!" She replied. Greg looked up, grumbling.  
  
"Hey - how come you'll let Catherine touch your stereo, but not me?"  
  
"Because Greg, unlike you, what I actually listen too is music." Catherine teased.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Grissom could smell breakfast through the door of Sara's apartment. His stomach grumbled, and he smiled. Whatever Nick was cooking, it smelled fantastic. He could hear the mumbled sounds of conversation and laughter coming from Sara's apartment, and smiled. He realized he was looking forward to joining them.  
  
Nick answered the door. Grissom almost didn't recognize him, and he started laughing. "Bruce Lee? Nice shirt Nick."  
  
"Yeah, yeah." Nick grumbled good naturedly, indicating for Grissom to come in. "The boys' idea of a joke." Grissom laughed.  
  
"Here, I brought you something." He handed Nick one of the bags he had been holding.  
  
"The last time I looked in a bag, I got this." Nick wryly pointed at his shirt. "I think I'm scared." He opened up the bag carefully, and took out a Dixie Chicks CD.  
  
"Music?"  
  
"Yeah - there's a song on that disc called 'Goodbye Earl' - thought it was appropriate." Grissom and Nick shared a grin. "Sort of morbid, but there you have it." Grissom looked at Nick intently for a second. "So, how are you doing?"  
  
"Good. I'm alright. If I actually felt sorry for Earl, I'd probably feel worse. It wasn't pleasant coming home last night covered in blood and brains. Sara thinks I should talk to the office shrink, just make sure there're no after effects."  
  
"That's a good idea. It might not have really sunk in yet." Grissom paused, hesitantly. "And how are things with you and Sara?"  
  
Nick shifted uncomfortably. "Well - uh - good. Listen Grissom, I hope -"  
  
"Not a problem, Nick. I can deal with it. I'm glad you're happy." Grissom put a hand on Nick's shoulder, squeezing it. "You're a good man, Nick Stokes. You're a fine CSI, and a good friend. I wouldn't want to see her with anyone else."  
  
Nick smiled at Grissom. "Thanks Grissom. I'm a little shocked, but thanks. What brought that on?"  
  
"The death of Miss Piggy." Grissom replied cryptically. 


	26. LIVING

XXVI - LIVING  
  
"Okay - I have a joke." Grissom's announcement caused all conversation to cease, and six faces turned towards him expectantly.  
  
"Does it involve bugs?" Warrick asked, grinning. "Is it too cryptic for the rest of us mere mortals to understand?"  
  
"Does it involve word-play using the periodic table of elements?" Greg piped up. Everyone laughed.  
  
"Nope. This is an honest-to-goodness joke. Did you hear about the agnostic dyslexic insomniac?" When no one answered, Grissom finished. "He stayed up all night asking himself if there really was a dog!"  
  
Everyone groaned. "How much champagne have you had, Grissom?" Sara teased. "I mean, we've all been drinking - thanks for bringing it by the way - but what was with that joke? You must be drunk."  
  
Grissom shrugged, smiling. "I just wanted to tell a joke. But the champagne is good."  
  
Warrick agreed with him, but added, "And you're sure the champagne was your idea? Not Catherine's?"  
  
"All Grissom!" Catherine giggled. "Although, it's good enough to have been my idea. Besides, Grissom is the only one who could afford four bottles of this stuff - it's not cheap."  
  
"That's why I refuse to water mine down with orange juice!" Greg interrupted, cheerfully raising his glass. "Sweet ambrosia!"  
  
Grissom took a sip from his own glass. "Nectar of the gods!" he agreed.  
  
In the background, the Dixie Chicks were singing. Everyone had laughed at Grissom's gift to Nick, and even Greg - who hated country music - had gotten into the swing of things when Sara had insisted on playing 'Good-bye Earl' right away. Within minutes, the whole crew had been shouting out the course.  
  
"I just can't feel bad," Catherine had commented. "If anyone ever did anything like that to Lindsey, I'd kill them. I understand why Becky did it - I only wish she'd snapped earlier."  
  
Breakfast had been delicious. While they ate, Grissom told Nick about the autopsy, and the discovery of Earl's tattoo. Nick had merely nodded. "Cycles. Children learn what they know. At least I'm glad that Nancy is going to get some help. It's amazing she survived - no one else did."  
  
"Except Becky." Warrick inserted. "And she survived by feeding him victims."  
  
And now, here they were, 3 bottles of champagne gone, 1 to go. The music had been changed over to radio - the Rivers & Waters morning show, playing strictly alt. rock, and the general energy level in the apartment was high. Sara was sitting on Nick's lap, laughing outrageously at something Greg was saying. Warrick, Brass and Catherine appeared to be having a rather intense conversation about something, and Grissom was sitting on the sofa, watching them all and smiling.  
  
He realized as he sat there that these people - his team, his CSIs - were his friends. As much as he had tried over the years to stay distant, he hadn't been able to - he had been drawn into friendships and relationships almost against his will. Maybe Sara's arrival two years ago had been the catalyst for change in Grissom's life. As he had started caring about her, the rest of his team had slipped in on the peripheral edges, and had firmly ensconced themselves in his heart. They were more than friends - they were his family: Warrick, Greg, Nick, Sara, Brass and lastly Catherine - his conscience and his sounding board.  
  
He looked to his left as he felt someone slide onto the sofa, beside him.  
  
"What are you doing, Grissom?" Sara asked.  
  
"I'm living," he responded, smiling. "And it's not as bad as I thought it would be."  
  
~FIN~  
  
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Authors Note: Thank you so much for the reviews and the support. I hope no one is disappointed with the ending. The continuation of this story "VIDEO KILLED THE RADIO STAR" is already in the works, and hopefully I'll be posting some chapters soon. As I mentioned earlier, I am normally a big Grissom/Sara 'shipper, but this story basically wrote itself and I was compelled to make it Nick and Sara, all the way. 


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